


It's Natural

by burnthebridge



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Aftercare, Angst, BDSM, Circus, Crushes, Demisexuality, F/F, F/M, Gen, Labor Unions, Menstruation, Multiverse, Parenthood, Scents & Smells, Slow Burn, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Swords, Therapy, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-08-05 23:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 86,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16376978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnthebridge/pseuds/burnthebridge
Summary: Vegeta and Bulma's kids are growing up. Bra's a teenager, with all the issues that the teenage years bring, and Trunks is trying to find his way (and maybe a mate) in the world. And this is more complicated when you're only half-human. And also have Vegeta as a father. And, come to think of it, have Bulma as a mother.Thanks for DianaEFox for Beta Reading!Not all chapters are Explicit. Chapter 21 is the first "real" explicit one. Many are, like, PG13 or whatever.





	1. Dark Chocolate

Vegeta choked on a mouthful of rice as Bra slid into the chair across the table from him. Coughing, he looked wide-eyed at the Woman – who looked nonplussed – and the Boy, who was giving the Girl a wary look.

Of course, Vegeta thought irritably. The Woman’s sense of smell isn’t so good. Damned humans.

He glanced at the Girl, who scowled at him.

“What has gotten into you, Vegeta?” Bulma asked.

“Oh… nothing,” Vegeta said awkwardly. He looked at the Boy, who was giving him a little apprehensive look. So the Boy could tell. He hadn’t been sure how good the Boy's sense of smell was, he was only half-Saiyan after all… and Vegeta had reason to believe that Gohan, another half-breed, didn’t have much of a nose on him. Still, Vegeta thought smugly to himself, my Boy has the blood of the Prince of All Saiyans running through him, not just the blood of some commoner like Kakarot…

“How was your day, Bra?” Bulma asked, taking a bite of fish. The Woman liked to talk during mealtimes. She demanded everyone answer at least a few of her incessant questions.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Bra spat out. Vegeta signed internally.

“Fine,” Bulma snapped, used to her family’s reticence. Still, she was determined to have a “family dinner.” Vegeta scoffed. So much talking. Humans love talking. Talk talk talk. It’s all they did. “How about you, Trunks? Did you talk to that person in Human Resources?”

“Um… yeah,” Trunks said, still eyeing Vegeta warily. “They think that some of the people over at Scientists and Educators United will talk to me because I’m not _technically_ employed by Capsule Corp at the moment… I think it's a long shot, to be honest...”

Vegeta drummed his fingers on the table, not listening to the Boy and the Woman talk about work. He looked at Bra, who was still scowling at him. He sighed. There was nothing to it. He would have to do it. Or… Well, he could just leave it. Not give her any food with iron in it. It wasn’t like he was _superstitious_. Of course not. That wouldn’t be fitting for someone of his stature and intelligence, to be superstitious about old Saiyan traditions…

He stood up abruptly and rooted around in the cabinet behind him for some minutes.

“What are you getting, Vegeta?” Bulma asked, her voice like razorblades.

Vegeta grunted.

He found the dark baking chocolate and pulled it out. It should really be a very rare steak. But he didn’t know how to cook… And he didn't want to tell the Woman she had to make something new, after cooking all this fish. Well. Tomorrow. Monthly leaks lasted longer than a day, usually. Didn't they? Well, the Woman’s did. He wondered if age had something to do with it.

He snapped off several large pieces of the chocolate and unceremoniously dropped them on the Girl’s plate.

“Eat them,” he said, sitting back down. The Girl narrowed her eyes at him. She smelled… embarrassed. He sighed. “They have iron. For the blood loss.”

“Dad!” The Girl whined, blushing and leaning back in her chair.

“Blood loss?” Bulma said sharply. “What happened?”

“Tomorrow you’ll have a rare steak for dinner,” Vegeta said, ignoring the Woman for now. “You need lots of iron when you’re… having your monthly blood leak. It keeps you strong.”

“…Oh,” Bulma said, realizing. Her face lit up. “Oh, honey that’s great… why didn’t you tell me? You’re becoming a women…”

“Mom, _stop!”_ Bra squirmed in her seat. “Can’t I have some privacy?”

“Why did you tell your father but not me?” Bulma continued sounding… hurt. Vegeta scowled.

“I didn’t!”

“Saiyans can… smell it. When a woman is leaking blood for the month.” Vegeta said, feeling embarrassed. It wasn’t something you _talked_ about.

“Dad! Gross! Stop it! I… I hate you! I hate all of you!” Bra stood up, about to race out of the room, when she caught her father’s eye. Vegeta nodded towards the chocolate pieces. Bra snatched them up, scoffed, and then flounced out of the room.

“You can _smell_ it?” Bulma asked, looking slightly disgusted. “She’s your _daughter_. That’s weird.”

“What? I can’t help it,” Vegeta protested, as Bulma shook her head and followed Bra out of the kitchen. A few seconds later Vegeta heard the Woman knocking quietly on the Girl’s door. Well, that was good, he thought, collapsing into his chair. Let the women talk to each other about it. The Girl was becoming a Woman, he thought, and then winced. That felt… strange.

Vegeta looked at the Boy, who was blushing and picking at his food. The Boy was old now, too. Much older than the Girl. But he could never think of him as anything other than the Boy…

“Your sense of smell is good too, then?” Vegeta barked.

“Um…” Trunks said, continuing to fiddle with his food. “Well, I can tell when women are…”

“Yes,” Vegeta said. “Can you tell if people are afraid by their scent?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good, that helps fighting.”

“Yes.”

Vegeta paused. He could smell the Boy’s embarrassment radiating off of him. That meant he probably could….

“And… well, the other thing? When people are… excited? Wanting to mate?”

“…Yes.” Trunks said, now blushing even more.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Vegeta snapped, taking a swig of his water. “It just means you have strong Saiyan genes.”

“I can also tell when people have mated recently,” Trunks said. “Can you?”

“Yes. That’s normal, too, for a Saiyan.”

“Did… did you tell Mom? Before you and her… I mean, could you tell that Yamcha was seeing other women?”

Vegeta blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that.

“She already knew,” he said shortly. “So I didn’t.”

“Would you have if she didn’t know?”

“Probably.”

“One of Gohan’s friends at the University has a wife who’s sleeping with lots of other men…”

“Ah.” Vegeta said.

“Do you think I should tell him?”

“Are you close to him?” Vegeta asked.

“Not really.”

“I wouldn’t.” Vegeta said levelly. “If you become closer to him, then maybe.” Vegeta sighed again.

“Humans are…. a bit weird about mating,” Vegeta continued, feeling… foolish. “Not like Saiyans.”

Trunks gave him a little sideways look.

“They can’t smell it on each other… they can’t tell when someone else is excited just by their scent…” Vegeta continued. “And humans sometimes get excited when they really don’t want to mate. I read an article about it. People who are forced to mate against their will sometimes still experience pleasure or desire – but it’s like an instinctual reaction. Not the same as if they wanted it. So you can’t trust the scent.” Vegeta scowled. “There is nothing so disgusting as forcing someone to mate against their will.”

“Yeah,” Trunks agreed quietly, still fiddling with his food.

“And apparently it happens _all the time._ ” Vegeta continued, disgust edging into every word. “Sometimes I think humans are crueler than Saiyans…”

“Yeah…” Trunks said.

They ate for a few minutes in silence.

“How are things going with Yamcha’s child?” Vegeta said, trying to keep the derision out of his voice. He failed.

"I split up with her.”

“Oh, good,” Vegeta said, relief spreading across his face.

“You just didn’t like her because you hate Yamcha,” Trunks snapped. “She can’t help who her father is..”

“No,” Vegeta countered. “I didn’t like her because she wasn’t a good mate for you. She wasn’t strong enough.”

“What? She’s a professional power-lifter…”

“Not strong like _that_ ,” Vegeta said, rolling his eyes. “Your mother’s not all that strong _physically_ , but she’s still strong. She doesn’t just bend to my will. Yamcha’s child kept _agreeing_ with you all the time, it was exhausting. Disgusting.”

Trunks was silent.

Vegeta sighed.

“Boy, you want to find yourself someone who will be The Woman in your life. Not just A Woman. _The_ Woman.”

Trunks said nothing, but Vegeta could tell he had gotten through to him. He patted him on the head. He was a good Boy, all things considered… a bit weak at times, but usually quite strong and proud… Of course he is, Vegeta thought smugly. He has a strong and proud father.

“Something else has been bothering me, actually…” Vegeta said. “Do you think we should tell your mother that your sister only gets aroused when around other girls? I think your mother thinks she will mate with a man one day. I don’t think she will like hearing that we can tell when she’s aroused, though, humans like to pretend that close family members never have mating instincts…”

Trunks buried his face in his hands.

“Oh God, not you too,” Vegeta barked. “It’s natural! We can’t turn off our noses!”


	2. Newspapers and Cardamom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trunks goes to his appointment with someone at Scientists and Educators United. He was told these political radicals and trade unionists would be difficult to deal with, but he wasn't expecting... this.

Trunks stared at the door to Scientists and Educators United. He wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to do. He hadn’t thought that anyone here would agree to meet with him – but when he called to make an appointment, they said he was more than welcome to come in and talk to Shawn, the lead organizer. He had seen Shawn’s name on some of the newsletters and pamphlets. He seemed important. He was supposedly frightening, too… Someone on a website had called him “The Dragon.”

He swung open the door and stepped into the entryway to the office. He glanced around, waiting to see if someone would greet him. No one did.

It looked like… well, a normal, albeit shabby office. It was hard to believe that _this_ was the organization that was causing the board of the Capsule Corp into such a tizzy. There was a dead fern in the corner.

Trunks glanced at a poster above an extremely messy desk. A group of people wearing white lab coats were awkwardly holding a sign saying “VICTORY! UNIONIZATION PASSES AT ZETRO COMPANY!”

Those are some unattractive scientists, Trunks thought to himself, glumly.

He turned a corner into the main office, which was just as shabby as the entryway. He could smell the stink of dust, old paper, and ink permeating through the entire office. A tall, thin man wearing a dark suit was screaming into a telephone.

Ah, thought Trunks. He could smell the rage and extreme confidence wafting off the man. The Dragon himself. 

He stepped a few paces closer to the Dragon, trying to look intimidating. The man took a breath in between shouts on the phone, and saw Trunks. He pointed him towards a conference room in the back.

Oh. The man would meet him in the conference room when he was done on the phone. Trunks sighed. The man certainly seemed over-confident. What would talking to The Dragon be like? Trunks wondered as he headed into the conference room.

It wasn’t empty, to Trunks’s surprise.

A young woman was sitting at the long table, reading a magazine and eating a sandwich. She smelled of newspapers and cardamom. She also smelled confident. Trunks couldn't imagine why. She didn't _look_ like the kind of woman who would be over-confident.

“Um,” Trunks said.

“Oh, hello,” the woman said, glancing up at him and flipping a page in the magazine. “I’ll be with you in one moment. I have to finish this quiz to find out what kind of animal totem I am most like in the bedroom.”

“What?” Trunks asked, blushing.

“It’s a women’s magazine. They have quizzes. I’m taking one. I’ll be ready to talk to in one second.” The woman’s voice was level and smooth, as if she was talking to a child.

“Um, I think there’s some mistake…”

“You think taking the concept of animal totem, an important concept in many indigenous religious traditions, and watering it down to a cutesy frame to see if you are more like a Bear or a Tiger in the bedroom is a little offensive? Yeah, me too. But still, the quiz beckons.”

“What?” Trunks asked.

The woman glared at him. She had ridiculous hair, Trunks thought, blinking. It was so curly and frizzy it looked like someone had attached a brown overgrown shrub to her head. She also had ridiculously broad shoulders and an _extremely_ long nose. God, they have ways to fix that these days, he thought to himself. Imagine _keeping_ a nose like that...

“I said, _hold on._ ” The woman snapped.

“Listen,” Trunks snapped back, “There’s some mistake. I’m not here to talk to… to _you,”_ he sneered. “I’m here to talk to that man on the phone out there. He waved me in here.”

The woman took another bite of her sandwich and looked at him thoughtfully.

“So, maybe you should leave and let me wait for him in peace?” Trunks continued hotly.

“I am _so_ sorry,” the woman said after a moment. “I didn’t realize you had a meeting with _the man_ out there. What you must think of me, doing _quizzes._ ”

She stood up and quickly left the conference room, slamming the door behind her.

Trunks stared at the door for a few minutes.

What kind of people did this place employ? He wondered to himself. The board had said that the people here would be difficult to deal with – people with political agendas and beliefs that would stop them from being reasonable… but he hadn’t quite expected this.

He waited in the room for a long time. He glanced at his watch. It had been almost thirty minutes…. Finally he heard the man hang up the phone.

The man exchanged a few words with the woman and then popped his head into the conference room, looking confused.

“You wanted to meet with me?” he barked at Trunks, looking confused.

“I have a meeting with Shawn,” Trunks said, willing his face not to blush.

“Oh. Shawn’s a woman.” The man said, realization dawning on his face. “I think she was in here when you came in. That’s why I waved you in.”

“What?” Trunks exclaimed, now blushing furiously, as the woman with that… that _ridiculously_ long nose sidled into the room.

“Oh, _I_ see,” Shawn the woman said, flinging down the magazine onto the table and sitting down. “You were confused because my name is usually a _man’s_ name. How… understandable...”

She was mocking him, Trunks thought, gritting his teeth. And… and… she wasn’t even _attractive_! Most women treated him a bit more deferentially, he knew, because he was, well, considered _very_ attractive. The man gave Shawn a little smirk and left them alone in the room. They were _both_ laughing at him.

“I’m apparently a lioness in the bedroom, by the way,” she continued. “Because I got mostly Bs in the quiz.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t matter,” Trunks said tightly. “I’m sure you have trouble finding anyone willing to go within ten feet of you.”

“Hmm… you may be right about that,” Shawn said shrugging. “Well, did you come all this way to talk about me, Mr. Briefs?”

Trunks blinked. Of course she would recognize me, he thought glumly. The Dragon. He could see it now, this miserable woman making everyone’s life a horror.

“I wanted to come and ask that you reconsider your unionization campaign at Capsule Corp,” Trunks snapped. “The employees _don’t_ want or need a union. You’re continually harassing and bothering them.”

The woman leaned back and studied him.

“Which employees told you that?” She asked after a minute. “That man in payroll?”

“Well,” Trunks said, hesitating a minute. “Um... Yes. And, er, some upper management told me they had been getting a lot of complaints…” That wasn’t completely true, Trunks thought. The board had been the ones complaining.

“Odd. We haven’t talked to anyone in payroll.” The woman said flatly, rolling her eyes.

“Our employees are _very_ well-paid,” Trunks started, before Shawn lifted a hand, glaring at him. He stopped talking. Something about this woman made her hard to disobey. Maybe it’s because she looks like a witch in children’s fairy tales, he thought murderously.

“’ _Your_ ’ employees?” Shawn snapped. “I’m sorry,  I was under the impression you are not currently employed by Capsule Corporation.”

“Well, no, but I _am_ the heir to the company—“

“No.” Shawn said flatly. “Come on, you _know_ that’s not true. You’re the heir to the Research and Development division of the company. You will not inherit the rest of the company. The rest is operated by the Board of Directors, publicly owned and traded, and cannot be inherited.”

“Research and Development takes up the vast, vast, vast majority of Capsule Corp,” Trunks snapped, feeling his face getting hotter. “It's what we do, if you haven't noticed. Research things and then develop them. What is the rest of the company, anyhow? A few marketing personnel? It’s incidental.”

Shawn snorted, shaking her head.

“And I thought the Briefs were supposed to be geniuses,” she said, derision filling her every words. “You go and ask one of what you and your lovely mother refer to as the “Grunt Scientists” and “Grunt Engineers” and ask them if they are in the Research and Development division of the company, or if they are in the newly implemented "Scientific Innovation" division. They might be too afraid to tell you at first, though. They're frightened of you two. Can't imagine why...”

“Scientific Innovation?” Trunks asked, his brow furrowing. “I don’t know what that is, but we don’t have it at Capsule Corp. Listen, _all_ of the engineers and the scientists in the company fall under Research and Development. We have always been very clear about that since giving control of the rest of the company to the board…”

“Follow all the office reorganizations carefully, do you?” The woman said, looking disgusted.

Trunks gaped at her. Reorganizations at Capsule Corp were becoming so common these days… it was basically _impossible_ to keep up with them… he knew even his mother had started barely skimming them. But those were just shuffling around people in marketing and public relations, the board wouldn’t dare to mess with the… the _real_ workers of Capsule Corp… She _couldn’t_ be right, could she?

“Why on earth did they tell _you_ to come and talk to me,” Shawn grumbled. Then she sighed, a light going off on her homely face. “Oh, I get it.”

“What?” Trunks asked tentatively.

“They probably wanted you to talk to me about how _difficult_ it was to deal with the board, that you and your mother and all the _scientists_ fight against them every day, and that you and mommy dearest will _of course_ make sure that everyone at the company is paid well – so what’s the need for a union?”

Trunks stared at her. He remembered the way the Chairman of the Board had smiled at him, and shook his hand, and said, “Well, you know, Trunks, the idea of unionizing at Capsule Corp is really not worth the time of Scientists and Educators United. They would know that if they spent a few minutes here, eh? Come on. We know you and your mother aren’t exactly _best friends_ with the board, hah-hah. If we tried to cut pay too much, you all would come in here screaming and we would _have_ to pay our employees a better wage. A union is irrelevant when there are Briefs around. I mean, come on... what would be stronger -- a bunch of political radicals or _your_ mother?”

It had made a weird kind of sense at the time. His mother famously _hated_ the board. And he thought they were full of boring, suit-wearing, idiots.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

“Also, they didn’t realize I have a copy of the recent reorganization chart and plan,” Shawn said smugly. “They tried to keep it very tightly under wraps.”

She snorted, and then pulled a flash drive out of her pocket and slid it across the table to Trunks.

“Here.” The strange woman said, “It’s a copy of the reorg chart and plan that was implemented last month. Take it, be appalled. Also there is some propaganda on there about unions. You don’t seem to know a lot about them.”

“Propaganda,” Trunks said flatly.

Shawn shrugged at him.

“I think everything’s propaganda,” she said, standing out and starting to walk out of the room. “Just better or worse propaganda.”

She hesitated at the doorway. “I wouldn’t tell the board you have that,” she said, nodding at the USB drive. “I’d show your mother first. And then, if you like, we can talk again.”

“Oh, yeah, because I’d like nothing less than to see you again,” Trunks spat out, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Shawn smiled at him faintly, her eyes suddenly distant.

“Yeah… me too,” she said, sighing and then leaving him alone in the conference room.


	3. I was there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trunks tells his mother the horrific news about the Board's (so far successful) attempts to take over Capsule Corp. Yelling and screaming ensues.

Bulma put some eyedrops in her eyes and blinked furiously. Too much time sitting in front of the computer did this to her. She should be spending more time building this device, but she knew she had to finalize plans first… something still wasn’t quite right.

She sighed and restarted the program. She would get it right, this time. Maybe.

The door slammed open and Trunks, looking wild, ran in.

“Mom!” he yelled, skidding into the room. “Did you read the most recent reorganization plan? The one that went into effect last month?!”

“Um,” Bulma said, looking sadly at the computer screen as the virtual model of the car collapsed in front of her eyes. It still wasn’t strong enough. Maybe such a small car wouldn’t work out… “Well, you know those org charts. I skimmed it before I signed it, of course.”

“Did you read the footnotes?!”

“Footnotes? No, I never read those,” Bulma said, looking up at her son, who was looking… extremely worried. “Why?”

“Mom, we need to look at this right now,” Trunks barked, sounding more like Vegeta than usual.

“Fine,” she said, sighing and closing the simulator on her computer. “What’s so important about this reorganization? They put too many accountants in the marketing department?”

Five minutes later, Bulma was inchoate with rage.

“HOW _DARE_ THEY DO THIS? HOW CAN THEY DO THIS? THIS IS CRIMINAL! I’LL SUE THEM! I’LL HAVE MY HUSBAND KILL THEM ALL! NO! FIRST I’LL HAVE HIM DISEMBOWEL THEM, _THEN_ HE CAN KILL THEM ALL!”

The door swung open and Vegeta sauntered in.

“Who am I killing?” he asked casually.

“THE DAMNED BOARD OF DIRECTORS!” Bulma yelled, feeling her heart pounding in all of her veins. They _couldn’t_ do this, could they? What the hell does “Scientific Innovation” even _mean?_

“Mmm,” Vegeta said, sitting down in a chair. “When I’m done with that, do you mind fixing the gravity chamber? I broke something in there again.”

How _dare_ he look so calm, cool, and collected at a time like this? Bulma raged.

“IF THIS DOESN’T GET FIXED, YOU MIGHT NOT _HAVE_ THE GRAVITY CHAMBER ANY MORE!” Bulma yelled.

Vegeta’s brow furrowed.

“WHY?!” He yelled. “WHAT’S HAPPENING? I NEED THAT FOR MY TRAINING!”

“OH, _NOW_ YOU’RE ANGRY?” Bulma yelled. “THE BOARD IS TRYING TO TAKE OVER THE WHOLE COMPANY, AND ALL YOU CARE ABOUT IS THE GRAVITY CHAMBER?!”

“HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN?” Vegeta yelled. “THE BOARD IS FULL OF WEAKLINGS! HOW COULD YOU LET THEM TRY TO USURP YOU?”

Bulma blushed. How _dare_ he?! It’s not like he ever took an interest with the company.

“OH, FUCK YOU, VEGETA! IT’S NOT LIKE YOU EVER HELP WITH THE COMPANY!”

“OHO, FUCK YOURSELF, WOMAN! WHY SHOULD I CARE ABOUT YOUR COMPANY? THAT’S YOUR JOB! I NEED TO TRAIN!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Bulma saw Trunks shake his head disgustedly and leave the room.

“FUCK YOU, VEGETA!”

“FUCK YOU, WOMAN!”

Bulma stopped screaming, and stood there, panting. She glared at her husband, who was giving her _that_ look. God, she loved screaming at him. God, she loved that look.

“Go lock the door and take me,” Bulma gasped, undoing the buttons on her blouse as Vegeta whipped around to lock the door.

 --

Twenty minutes later, Vegeta handed her a broken necklace.

“I ripped this off of your neck,” he said, yawning slightly.

“Yes, dear,” Bulma said sleepily. “I was there.”

“Well. Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“I’ll get it fixed.”

“What’s the Board up to?”

Bulma sighed, wondering how much of the situation Vegeta would understand. He usually had trouble understanding… well, work.

She tried to explain it to him.

“A non-violent, covert takeover,” Vegeta said, when she was done. “Despicable.”

“Well… yes.” Bulma said, surprised at how quickly her husband had caught on.

“Is it legal?”

“I think so.”

“Hmm.” Vegeta said, sitting up. “Well, we won’t go down without a fight. We’re warriors.” He drew her closer and suddenly inhaled deeply, his face buried in her hair. Bulma blushed.

“You reek of sweat and sex,” Vegeta said, chortling slightly. “Added to your normal scent, it’s wonderful.”

“Don’t be gross.”

“I like it.” Vegeta said, sighing. “But you probably should take a shower before talking to the Board.”


	4. They're Hard Parents To Have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Insights into Vegeta's (frightening, broken) psyche!

Trunks irritably flung the manila envelope on the kitchen table. After leaving his parents to “discuss” things in the workshop, he had decided to print out everything on the flash drive that… that horrific woman had given him. In addition to the offending org chart, there were several pamphlets and brochures about how great unions were. Propaganda, indeed.

“Hi,” Bra said, wandering into the room. She set down a glass full of very dark, thick-looking liquid on the table and hopped onto a chair across from him. She reached for a pamphlet and looked over it.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at school?” Trunks asked her suspiciously.

“Aren’t you supposed to have a job?” Bra retorted. “You’re old enough.”

Trunks scowled at her.

“Seriously, though,” he prompted after a moment.

“Dad called in to excuse me. I’m sick.”

“No you’re not.” Trunks scoffed.

“I am. I need to replenish my iron,” Bra said, tipping her glass towards Trunks.

“Is that…”

“Cow’s blood.” Bra said, taking a delicate little sip. “Dad’s making me drink it.”

“Wait, he _called the school_?” Trunks said, the second part of Bra’s story finally hitting him.

“Yes. It was pretty hilarious. He didn’t really know what to do. He didn’t say hello or anything. He just said, ‘I declare that my child, Bra Briefs, cannot come to your insignificant school today. She is unwell.’ Then he just hung up. I don’t think he really understood there was another person on the other line.”

“You don’t need to miss school because you have your period.”

“Apparently, Saiyan women would miss school for _their_ periods. They would stay home, drink a lot of blood, and train.”

“That cannot be true,” Trunks said heavily. “I can’t believe Saiyans _ever_ went to school.”

Bra snorted at Trunks's quip and took another sip of her blood cocktail, grabbing one of the brochures from Trunks’s folder and started to look it over.

“Bra, you’ll fall behind if you miss school every month. Fall _farther_ behind, that is...”

“I’ll just get Pan to help me,” Bra said, shrugging slightly. “She’s smarter than most of the teachers, anyway.”

“Yeah, _about_ Pan…” Trunks started.

Bra rolled her eyes.

“Nothing’s going on,” she said, irritably. Oh. Well, she had been expecting that, then.

“Dad thinks you’re a lesbian,” Trunks said flatly.

“Nothing’s going on with Pan,” Bra continued, blushing furiously. She didn’t look surprised, Trunks thought.

“You _like_ her, though.”

“I’m fourteen years old. I’m supposed to like… people. How am I supposed to know if I’m… you know? Gay?”

Trunks blinked at her.

“How did you know Dad thought you were gay?” Trunks asked suspiciously. "I thought that would surprise you."

“Well,” Bra began, taking another sip of her drink and gagging. “Oh my god, I think that was a blood clot… oh my God, that’s disgusting… well, Dad made a comment after a Family Meeting we had…”

“A Family Meeting? When? Without me?” Trunks tried to keep the hurt out of his voice. He was too old to get so… emotional about things like this. It wasn’t attractive, it wasn’t strong. But Bra and his father had… well, they seemed to get along well. Better than he and his dad. It was… infuriating. Knowing that he wasn’t… well, good enough.

“Well, it was about you. Dad called it.”

“ _Dad_ called a Family Meeting? About _me_? He usually only ever _attends_ them if he thinks there will be an excuse to yell at us…”

“Yeah.” Bra said, swallowing and looking suspiciously in her glass of blood. "It was last week.”

Trunks stared in disbelief as Bra told him the story.

\--

“We need to talk about the Boy,” Vegeta had said.

“Is this about him quitting his job at Capsule Corp?” Bulma had said, sighing. “I think it’s a good idea, he needs to find himself…”

“He didn’t quit, he left,” Vegeta snapped. “He’s a strong boy. Not a quitter. No, we need to talk about that… that… horrible woman he is dating,” Vegeta had continued. “ _Ruti_ ,” he sneered. “What sort of name is _Ruti_?”

“She’s not that bad,” Bulma had said, sighing. “You just have a chip on your shoulder because she’s Yamcha’s long-lost daughter.”

“It’s just like that man to sire a child and not know it,” Vegeta grumbled.

At this, Bulma had burst out laughing.

“Excuse me? You weren’t exactly around when I gave birth to Trunks, you know…” Bulma had said.

“I know! Good God, don’t you think I know!” Vegeta spat out, looking both sad and angry.

“What?” Bulma asked, frowning. “What are you talking about?”

“Do you think… that’s why he likes… such… a _stupid_ woman?” Vegeta had said, sounding truly miserable. “I was too hard on him as a child? Not… well… there? And now he feels he needs to be… _coddled_? By a blonde idiot who will agree with every word he says?”

Silence penetrated the room; Bulma staring at Vegeta, and Bra blushing slightly.

“Um, I think he just wants to date a pretty girl who will put out, Dad,” Bra had said.

“Bra!” Bulma snapped. "Don't be... _vulgar_..."

“But… she’s so… what _fun_ would it be to mate with a woman like that?” Vegeta had said, sounding perplexed and disgusted.

“She’s not _that_ stupid,” Bulma continued.

“She’s pretty bad, Mom,” Bra had said. “She asked me the other day if working out in the gravity chamber made you fatter. Because you weighed more in the gravity chamber...”

“Do you think he’ll… _mate_ with her for life? … _Marry_ her, as you humans say?” Vegeta said, ignoring Bra's anecdote about the gravity chamber.

“I doubt it,” Bulma said.

“He better not,” Bra had said. “She’s pretty insufferable.”

Vegeta sighed, looking relieved and exasperated.

“Well, can we get rid of her?” Vegeta asked. “She needs to go. I can't keep having her around at family functions.”

"Honey, when was the last 'family function' you attended?" Bulma asked through gritted teeth.

“We could kill her,” Bra had said, smirking slightly.

“I like the enthusiasm, Bra, but I don’t think so,” Vegeta had said, drumming his fingers on his chin. “That would probably upset the Boy, and I’m pretty sure it’s illegal…”

“Oh, Vegeta. He’ll break up with her eventually,” Bulma had said, sounding exasperated. “And if you’re afraid he’s… resentful of you not being there when he was young, you could try _talking_ to him about it instead of having clandestine family meetings!”

“ _Talking_ to him about it?” Vegeta had demanded, looking surprised. “And say _what_ exactly? I am the Prince of All Saiyans, if you haven’t forgotten, Woman, and I can’t go around… _apologizing_ to my own _son…_ ”

“I’m leaving,” Bulma had said, any sympathy she had for her husband’s regrets dissipating. “I have things to do. Talk to your son. _Don’t_ murder Ruti.”

After Bulma had stalked off, Vegeta and Bra had sat in silence for a few minutes.

“We could _scare_ her somehow,” Bra finally offered. “Not _kill_ her exactly, but _threaten_ her…”

“No, your mother is probably right. She knows more about human mating than me.” Vegeta had said scowling. "They'll probably... what's the term? Break down?"

“Well, that’s that then,” Bra had said, standing up.

“Wait.” Vegeta had said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Bra had sighed, and turned around. “What?” she asked.

“You are to respect _both_ Kakarot and Gohan’s households, do you understand me?” Vegeta had said, scowling.

“What?” Bra had asked, wrinkling her nose. Where had this come from?

“I heard Gohan make a joke about you and Pan’s sleepover. About not inviting any _boys_ over when he and Videl went out to dinner and left you in the house alone.”

“But… we didn’t invite any boys over…” Bra had protested. “We didn’t invite anyone over!”

“ _I know._ ” Vegeta had said meaningfully, giving her a _look_ which had sent shivers down her spine. “Gohan and even that idiot Kakarot for some reason seem to think you two are _friends._ You are to act like that when you are alone, do you understand me? _Friends._ It’s disrespectful to their homes for something else to happen…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bra had sputtered, blushing furiously.

“I’ve already asked you to leave the bedroom door open when you’re with Pan alone. Just because Kakarot and Goku are… slower on the uptake doesn’t mean you can deceive them. They are your elders.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bra had said again, and rushed out of the room.

\--

Trunks gaped at her, blushing slightly, as Bra finished up the story.

“I know it’s a lot to process,” Bra said, trying to diffuse Trunks’s obvious embarrassment. “Like, Dad wants us to _respect_ Kakarot and Gohan? The mind boggles.”

“Dad… feels bad about…”

“I know, you’re in a pretty good position, honestly,” Bra said, giving him a little look. “You could probably manipulate him to let him do whatever you want. I wish he had abandoned _me_ as a baby. Then he’d probably stop badgering me about my grades.”

Manipulate _Dad_? Trunks thought, looking at her. Bra was kind of… fearless when it came to their father. Trunks didn’t _fear_ him, not exactly, but he was more… apprehensive.

“He looks at your report cards?” Trunks asked, surprised. “I don’t think he even knew what grades _were_ when I was in school….”

“Are you kidding?” Bra asked, surprised. “He _has_ all your old report cards. He carts them out every time I get one just to compare how much better at school you were than me. It’s awful. You should have been there when I got a B in gym. Just because I refuse to play kickball... I thought he was going to go ballistic. He’s _constantly_ telling me how much better at school you were than me.”

Trunks blushed again. He felt… foolish. He hadn’t known.

“I’m telling you, this expectation for me to get good grades is taking a real toll on my self-esteem,” Bra continued, again trying to ignore Trunk’s feelings. “What’s all this, by the way?” she asked, gesturing towards the manila folder Trunks had dropped on the table so many minutes before.

“Oh, the Board is trying to take over the company,” Trunks said, sighing. “We might lose everything and become destitute.”

“As long as it happens after the sixteenth-birthday party Mom promised me,” Bra said easily. "So hold 'em off for a couple of years..."

Trunks hesitated.

“Bra?” he said after a moment.

“Mmm?” She said, polishing off her drink.

“Thanks.” Trunks said, squeezing her shoulder. “For telling me.”

“Yeah,” Bra said, pausing for a minute. “I don’t know how you could’ve survived having _them_ as parents without a sibling… you know, before I was born. I’m really happy I have you to talk to. They’re hard parents to have.”


	5. You Toaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shawn has to meet someone in her group therapy class and "have coffee" with them and "talk about their feelings" with them, which she doesn't want to do. She also thinks they made a mistake on her form, it looks like her partner doesn't have a name, just a number. That can't be right.

This free experimental therapy may not be worth it, Shawn thought, biting her lip and glancing at her watch. Well, at least she was at a café. She could have an espresso if the woman didn’t show up.

The group was helpful… sometimes. It was for women who fretted about their body image. It had been hard for Shawn to swallow her pride and go, but her regular therapist was getting expensive. It had been a… startling experience at first. She was… well, she was one of the better-looking people in the group. Lots of the ladies in the group had severe facial deformities or scars across their faces. When she came in initially, she could _feel_ them judging her. Oho, she could feel radiating off of them, you feel bad because you’re a bit bigger than normal and have a large nose. How cute. At least you _have_ a full nose, not only half of one, like poor Susie.

But, eventually, they had learned to accept her. She could feel them becoming kinder to her.

And, as the group got more established, and better funded, _prettier_ people started to come in. People with body dysmorphia, eating disorders, just generalized anxiety… and then she could feel _herself_ silently judging them. Oh, you poor thing, you’re a size 2 instead of a 0, how haaaard, and she hated herself for judging the newcomers the way she had been judged.

And today, instead of therapy, group participants were meeting up with a partner, another member of the group, in a public place and talking to one another, going through a set of predetermined. Seemed risky. Therapy without any therapists. I guess that’s why it’s experimental, Shawn thought, sighing. Also why they made us sign those waivers.

And of course she had gotten paired with one of the prettiest participants. It was her luck.

“Shawn?” Shawn looked up, startled. It was her partner for today, the pretty one. She had practically snuck up on her.

“Oh… hi,” Shawn said, standing up from the small table and shaking the woman’s hand. No smile. OK. Great. “Um. I think there was a problem with our sheet. It just lists your name as 18…”

“That’s right,” the woman said, sliding into the seat across from Shawn. “I’m 18.”

“Right,” Shawn said. “Your… name is 18. Great. OK.”

A waiter came by to take their order, Shawn ordering a triple espresso and …18, or whatever her name really was, ordering a lavender tea.

“Don’t need caffeine, huh?” Shawn asked in the awkward silence once the waiter left.

“No. I’ve never needed it,” 18 said, pushing some of her blonde hair out of her face. She looked… cold.

“Uh-huh,” Shawn said.

“Well, I suppose we are supposed to ask each other these questions…” 18 said, sighing slightly and pulling her copy of the list of questions out of her bad.

“Yeah,” Shawn said, sighing slightly. 18 gave her a sharp little look over the top of her sheet of paper.

“Do you want to go first?” 18 asked.

“Oh…” Shawn said, fidgeting. “Sure.” She looked down at her sheet of paper. “So, 18, how long have you been in the therapy program, and what made you join it?”

“Ah.” 18 said, crossing her arms over her chest. “And this is confidential, right?”

“We signed waivers saying it would be,” Shawn said, blinking.

The waiter came with their order; 18 was silent while the waiter placed it down on their table.

“I’ve been in the group therapy for about three weeks,” 18 began. “You were there on my first day. I saw you glaring at me…”

“Sorry…” Shawn muttered, feeling like an asshole.

“It’s all right.” 18 said, blushing slightly. She took a deep breath, and started to talk, sounding like she had made a prepared statement.

“I had an accident when I was younger. I have a lot of visible… plates on parts of my body,” 18 whispered. “A lot of them are around… well. _There._ ”

“…Oh,” Shawn said, blushing slightly.

“Yes.” 18 said, taking a sip of her tea. “Everything… works normally. I have a husband, and a child... Everything was normal…”

Shawn felt a ping of jealousy in her stomach, but smashed it down.

“But… I look different than other women. I look… more mechanical. And a few months ago, I walked in on my husband watching a dirty film…”

“Ah.” Shawn said, slightly fascinated.

18’s face darkened as she gripped the mug in front of her.

“And everything on the film… looked so… _normal_ everywhere, and... well, we haven’t been intimate for about three months. I haven’t wanted to. And so. Therapy.”

“Oh,” Shawn said, blushing. That was… not what she had expected.

“Oh,” Shawn said. “Um. I didn’t practice.”

18 laughed slightly.

“That’s ok, I think. Well? How long have you been in the therapy class, and why did you come?”

“Oh…” Shawn said, sighing. “I’ve been in it for quite a while now – like nine months or so. I came mostly because it was free and I… you know. Worry about the way I look.”

“Your nose?” 18 said, no trace of malice or harshness in her voice.

“Well…Yes, it’s long… and I’m kind of… built large. Large shoulders. Tall. Even if I lose a bunch of weight I still look… big. And, oh, dating has always been a disaster for me, and I feel like people are always mocking me wherever I go. And… I don’t know. I’d like to… date someone, but don’t really know how… I dated someone once, for a few weeks, but it turned out he was sort of dating me as some kind of dare…”

“That’s _horrible,_ ” 18 said, aghast.

“It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter.” Shawn said quickly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“What a horrible man,” 18 said, shuddering. “Did you get back at him?”

“No.” Shawn said after a moment’s silence. “He… um. He died in a car accident shortly after.”

“My God,” 18 said, staring at her. “That’s... heavy. Well, at least he got what he deserved.”

Shawn gave her a tight little smile.

“Like I said,” Shawn said tightly, “it happened a long time ago.”

18 studied her for what felt like several minutes. Her eyes were a very cool, very light blue.

“You have nice hair,” 18 offered at last. “Very curly and long. Pretty.”

“Thanks,” Shawn said, laughing slightly at the sudden change of topic. “I like it. I even like my nose, to tell you the truth… my parents both had very long noses, and they’re both dead. So getting it changed feels a bit like… disrespecting them, you know?”

“Not really,” 18 said, shrugging. “I didn’t have much of a family growing up.”

“Oh,” Shawn said.

“So your main problem is finding people to date, and mine is dealing with my husband in the bedroom,” 18 said thoughtfully. “That must be why they put us together.”

“Yes,” Shawn said, squirming slightly. “Um. Was dating hard for you?”

“Oh, I didn’t really _date_ ,” 18 said. “It just sort of… well, _happened_ with my husband.”

“Yes,” Shawn said glumly, “married people often say that.”

18 gave her a small smile and looked back down at her list.

“’Talk with your partner about what steps you can take to help your problems…” 18 read, trailing off slightly. “You’re going to tell me I should tell my husband I saw him…”

“Well,” Shawn said, laughing a bit. “I don’t know. Probably that would be best…”

“It’s just so _frustrating,_ ” 18 burst out suddenly. “I don’t even mind it that he watches those movies usually! This _particular_ one was so…” 18 buried her head in her hands and leaned forward again. “There were so many perfect vaginas, right there, on display. _Close-ups!_ You could barely even see the women attached to them!”

Shawn blinked, and leaned forward towards 18.

“Like… disembodied vaginas?” Shawn whispered.

“Practically! It was very… it all looked… I don’t know. Moist. Gross.”

“That sounds disgusting,” Shawn said, giggling slightly. “Ew. Like, just a bunch of… organs. Flopping around.”

“I know!” 18 said, now also stifling a giggle. Her face got stony. “But I know he’s looking at that because… well, I’m not perfect there. Having sex with me is probably like… having sex with a… machine. I’m sure all her wants is a nice, normal person with nice, normal parts… Why else would he want to watch….”

“Ownerless vaginas?” Shawn whispered.

18 gave her a little look.

“I mean, would _you_ watch a film just with… rows of disembodied… dicks?” 18 hissed at her.

“Maybe,” Shawn whispered back, now giggling and blushing. “I don’t know. Depends what kind of mood I was in.”

“Oh, stop.” 18 said, laughing. “OK, let’s talk about you now…”

“Are you kidding? We didn’t think of any plans for you? We just giggled about vaginas for five minutes…”

“I don’t really want to talk about future plans. But, when was the last time you were attracted to someone? Did you flirt with him? Ask him out? You like men, right?”

“Men, yes,” Shawn said, frowning. “Oh…” she winced. “There was this _very_ attractive guy I met with for work the other day.”

“Yeah?”

“It was awful. He was _definitely_ too attractive for me.”

“Our therapists tell us to avoid ranking ourselves against others in terms of appearance,” 18 chided.

“All right, you toaster,” Shawn said, rolling her eyes. 18 initially looked hurt, but then started to giggle again. “Have you seen them?” Shawn continued. “Neither of _them_ have wedding rings on.”

“Maybe they don’t want to get married,” 18 said.

“Maybe this whole exercise is just a way for our therapists to feel better about themselves, surrounding themselves with less attractive people than them,” Shawn said. “Have you considered that?”

“No,” 18 said. “But now I’m considering it.” 18 paused for a moment, her head cocked to one side. “I think it’s a possibility. But still, how did you act around this man?”

“I could just _tell_ he thought I was so unbelievably ugly,” Shawn sighed. “It was awful. So I was… well, I was really mean to him.”

“I don’t see the problem there.”

“Well, it _was_ fun, but I might have to interact with him again for work. We’re trying to unionize at… the company he works for.”

“That’s right, you work with a union.” 18 said, remembering. “You mentioned it once in session.”

“Yeah…” Shawn said. “And he came in, looking nervous, which, you know, I really look for in a guy--“

“Me too,” 18 agreed. “The first time I saw my husband he looked terrified and nervous.”

Shawn burst out laughing.

“We like anxious, terrified-looking men. We might actually be the same person. Only I’m ugly on the parts outside of my clothes, and you’re ugly underneath your clothes.”

18, again, initially looked hurt, but then smiled a little.

“Have you tried online dating?” 18 asked.

“I have,” Shawn said. “I’ve gone on a few dates. They’ve all been terrible.”

“Hmm,” 18 said, looking at her hands. “Sometimes it takes more than one date to realize someone is the right person…”

She’s thinking that I am too choosy, Shawn thought to herself, trying to beat down the anger she felt rising towards the woman. Well, _she_ wasn’t there for those dates. _She_ doesn’t know. She thinks her life is oh-so-hard, doesn’t she, with her perfect blonde hair and… her… metal plates near her vagina and… well, OK, that does sound pretty hard, Shawn admitted to herself.

“Whatever,” Shawn mumbled, “you weren’t there…”

“No,” 18 agreed calmly.

“Well? What do you think you will do about your husband?” Shawn asked tetchily. She was on-edge now. “Break his computer? Leave him?”

18 stared at her for a few minutes.

“I think it was a DVD,” she eventually said. “He wasn’t using the computer.”

 “What,” Shawn said, disgust in her voice. “What do you mean a DVD?! Who watches that kind of thing on a… a DVD? Oh man. What year does he think this is? You should definitely leave him.”

18 barked out a short laugh and looked at the sheet in front of her.

“We are going to fall this exercise,” 18 said, sighing. “We are now supposed to compliment each other.”

“You complimented me,” Shawn said. “You said I have nice hair.”

“Yes, but you called me a toaster, which hurt my feelings.”

“Oh,” Shawn said, feeling boorish and foolish. “Um. Sorry.”

18 looked at her for a few minutes, tapping her fingers on the edge of the paper.

“Do you want to go shopping instead of finishing the worksheet?”

“More than anything in the world,” Shawn said, rolling her eyes and stuffing the sheet into her bad.

\--

“How old is your daughter turning this weekend?” Shawn said, looking over at the cosmetics 18 had shown her.

“Sixteen.”

“I was wearing a lot more makeup than this when I was 16, but I had an… unusual childhood,” Shawn said. “But she doesn’t wear much now?”

“No. I don’t think she even knows how to wear mascara.”

“A lipstick, mascara, and eyeshadow would be good then.” Shawn said, sipping her smoothie. “You could also get her a gift certificate and bring her back here and they can give her a makeover.”

“Oh…” 18 thought. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Why not? The only problem is they will try to get her to buy a lot of stuff she probably doesn’t need…”

“Hmm…” 18 said, her hands on her hips, mulling it over.

“Or I could come over and show her. I’m a trained make-up artist.” Shawn suggested, blushing immediately after the words left her mouth.

“Really?” 18 asked, blinking.

“I don’t… well, look like it, but yes. My parents were performers, so I learned how to do makeup early on. I have a certificate rattling around at home somewhere.”

“Oh…” 18 said thoughtfully.

“She having a big party?” Shawn asked.

“Well… yes. Lots of kids from her school, and also some family friends, but we know a wealthy family and they’re renting a boat for the party as their gift to her.”

“Wow,” Shawn said, “Fancy.”

“Yes… I’m a bit worried about it, to be honest. The boat is so big that I think it will be like two separate parties, the kid party and a much more frightening ‘adult’ party. And I will have to act like everything is fine with my husband and me, and not that we haven’t… you know, in months.”

“Hmm.” Shawn said. “What were you going to wear to it?”

“Just this,” 18 said. “I don’t think it’ll be that fancy.”

“You don’t want to buy something new?”

“Well, maybe…”

“It’d be fun…” Shawn prompted.

“Well… ok. But you know our therapists say we should seek to solve our insecurities with material objects.”

“Right, we’re not doing that at _all_ , 18,” Shawn said sternly, “we’re just buying dresses and overpriced makeup. Let’s go!”

\--

“Do you want to come to the party?” 18 said, looking at her reflection. This dress was nice. Dressy, but not _too_ dressy.

“Mmm?” Shawn said, leaning against the wall near the communal mirror in the fitting room.

“Do you want to come? This Saturday? 6:00pm. You could come over early, about 5:00pm, and can do the makeup for me and my daughter.”

“Oh… to your daughter’s birthday with your rich friends?” Shawn said doubtfully. “I don’t know…”

“Oh come on,” 18 said. “You said you’d help me show my daughter how to use this makeup…”

Shawn bit her lip.

“You could observe me being really mean to my husband… Moral support?” 18 said.

Shawn barked out a laugh.

“Oh, well in  _that_ case, sign me the fuck up,” Shawn said. “I’ll be there. Show me a picture of your daughter, so I know what kind of makeup to bring..."


	6. Prove it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krillin and 18 talk about their relationship. We learn a small bit about Shawn's background.

“Honey, you look great!” Krillin exclaimed, looking over his wife. “Green really suits you.”

“Oh…” 18 said, hesitatingly. “Thank you.”

“God… you look amazing,” Krilling continued rubbing the back of his neck. He could feel himself blushing. After all these years, she could still make him blush. Well. Their recent “dry patch” made it worse…

18 cocked her head at him and gave him an appraising glance. Krillin gulped. Something was different between them recently, he knew… he just didn’t know what. He had always thought that 18 was miles out of his league, he just hoped that _she_ hadn’t started to believe that…

18 quickly leaned down and gave him a little peck on his cheek. Krillin gulped. He loved it when she did that, it reminded him of the first kiss on the cheek she had given him… and he hadn’t gotten any affection from her in weeks.

He trembled, speechless, as 18 straightened up.

“I invited a friend to come early and help Marron and I get ready,” 18 said coolly, staring at her reflection in the mirror of the yacht’s stateroom.

“A friend?” Krillin asked, surprised. 18 didn’t… well, she didn’t have many friends. Especially outside of Bulma and Chi-Chi.

“Yes. Shawn. Can you go and bring her up here? She should be at the docks any second.”

Krillin, whose insides had clenched up at the name “Shawn” relaxed a little when he heard that “Shawn” was a girl.

“All right,” he said, giving his wife a little smile.

The boat was a bustle of activity with vendors setting up games and food stations. A DJ was setting up next to a small dance floor.

This was going to be… a party. That was for sure.

He had never thought that he would be the kind of parent who would give his daughter a birthday party on a _yacht._

The fact that it was a yacht brought forth other considerations as well. He hadn’t even thought of it, but Bulma had.

“And we’ll have some security guards standing near the corridor leading to the cabins,” she had said, as if it was a matter of course.

Krillin had been nonplussed.

“Why?” he said.

“They’re _teenagers_ , Krillin,” Bulma had said, exasperatedly. “You don’t want them sneaking off to _bedrooms_.”

Krillin hadn’t really considered Marron to be old enough for… _that_. But she was sixteen. And… well, he knew _some_ sixteen-year-olds did that kind of thing. He hadn’t, of course… but…

An extremely tall woman with broad shoulders and a huge mass of brown hair lumbered up the gangplank, rolling a large case behind her.

“Hi,” she said, breathlessly when she reached the top.

“Are you a vendor?” Krillin asked. “I thought they were supposed to all be here by now…”

“Oh. No.” The woman said, rubbing a sweaty hand on her jeans and extending it to Krillin. “I’m a friend of the hostess, 18. Shawn. I’m here to help her and the birthday girl get ready? Can you point me to where they are?”

“Oh, hi!” Krillin said, laughing and shaking her hand enthusiastically. “18’s my wife. I’m Krillin. Father of the birthday girl, you know! Nice to meet you!”

“Oh,” Shawn said, looking surprised. “You’re Krillin!”

Krillin smiled, blushing slightly. He was used to this. People always thought someone as beautiful and poised as his wife would be with someone more cool than him, someone taller…

“Yep!” He said. “You brought a lot of stuff!”

“Yeah,” Shawn said, following Krillin to the stateroom. “I wasn’t going to, I was just going to bring what I needed, but I was running so late I didn’t have time. So I just grabbed my whole kit.”

“Ah,” Krillin said. “That’s all… makeup?”

“Um, I wanted to talk to you about that, actually,” Shawn said breathlessly. “I’m a performer – or I used to be one, I guess – and this has some of my props and things in it too… They’re kind of specialized. Sentimental. Can I lock them up somewhere? With the makeup kit?”

“Oh, sure, you can lock things in the stateroom,” Krillin said easily, flinging open the door to the stateroom where his wife was sitting on the bed, looking resplendent in green. His daughter had joined them, wearing a shimmery pink dress that made Marron look… old. Oh boy, he thought glumly, noticing how many inches the dress ended above Marron’s knees, she’s growing up.

“Hi, Shawn!” 18 said, her eyes lighting up in a way that genuinely surprised Krillin. “This is Marron…”

“Hello,” Shawn said, smiling and straightening up the case. “I’m Shawn.”

“You’re a makeup artist?” Marron asked excitedly. “You’re here to show us how to use makeup?”

“Yep,” Shawn said, smiling.

“Can I… stay?” Krillin asked after a moment. Marron looked so… happy and excited. He didn’t want to miss it. “Or is this… girls-only?”

“I think it’s girls-only, dear,” 18 said, a slight edge to her voice. “Besides, Shawn has to get changed after she does our makeup.”

“Right,” Krillin said, trying not to sound too disappointed. “All right. See you soon.”

He wandered out onto the deck, sighing. He would have to ask 18 what was going on soon. There was no way around it. He hated to do it… he was afraid he would just be speeding up the inevitable if he asked her what was going on.

“Uncle Krillin!”

Krillin looked down at the gangplank to see Bra waving at him enthusiastically, the rest of the Briefs following shortly behind her.

“Hi, Bra,” he said, giving her a hug.

“Is it true someone is doing Aunt 18’s and Marron’s makeup?” Bra asked excitedly.

“Yeah,” Krillin said, smiling. “I’m sure they would be happy to see you. The stateroom is just through there…” he said, pointed.

“Awesome!” Bra exclaimed, scurrying off.

“Hi, Krillin,” Bulma said, looking radiant in a light blue shift dress. She gave him a hug.

“Vegeta, I’m surprised to see you here,” Krillin said, smiling at the scowling Saiyan.

“Huh,” he grunted at Krillin and looked away.

“Hi, Uncle Krillin,” Trunks said, also giving him a hug. “This looks great!”

“Yeah, thanks, Bulma for setting it up! Marron is really excited.”

“Well, sixteen is a big age,” Bulma said, laughing. “We’ve promised Bra a big party when she turns sixteen…”

“Can I talk to you alone, Krillin?” Vegeta suddenly spat out.

“Uh,” Krillin said, glancing at Bulma and Trunks in surprise. They also looked startled. “Sure.”

The two wandered towards the other side of the boat, leaving Trunks and Bulma to wander and watch the vendors setting up.

“I need to recruit you for an important task,” Vegeta said solemnly once they reached the other edge of the boat.

“Um…” Krillin said, laughing slightly. “…OK.”

“I want you to help me observe my son throughout the night.”

“Um.” Krillin said again.

“I _do not_ want him getting back together with that person, Ruti. Yamcha’s offspring.”

“Ah,” Krillin said, bewildered. “I hadn’t realized they had split up.”

“Yes,” Vegeta said, looking out at the sea. “I do _not_ like her.”

“Hmm,” Krillin said. He hadn’t expected Vegeta to even be dimly aware of who his children were dating.

“What kind of person do you want Marron to end up with, Krillin?” Vegeta asked suddenly.

“Um… well, I guess I mostly want her to be happy,” Krillin said, laughing uneasily.

“Huh,” Vegeta grunted. “You would.”

Krillin sighed.

“All right, Vegeta. I’ll try to make sure Ruti and Trunks don’t sneak off to make out on the boat somewhere.”

“Good.” Vegeta said, nodding and wandering off.

God, Vegeta could be an asshole, Krillin thought to himself irritably.

“Krillin!”

“Hi, Goku, Hi Goten!” Krillin exclaimed, embracing his friends. “Where’s Chi-Chi?”

“Oh, she’s still doing her hair. We wanted to come early and see if you needed any help setting up!”

“Goten!” Marron raced towards the young man. “GotenGotenGoten! I have a question for you and Trunks! Where’s Trunks?”

“Marron!” Krillin said, amazed at her daughter's face. “You look… older!”

“You look very pretty, Marron!” Goku exclaimed.

Trunks was summoned over.

“Well,” Marron said, sounding excited, “Mom’s friend is here and she grew up in a circus. A literal circus! Can you believe it? Anyway, I asked her if she would do some tricks and stuff for the party, and she said yes, but she needs –“ Marron stopped to do air-quotes – “’two young, strong men’ to help her. Will you help? She says it's easy. You just have to hand her stuff.”

“What kind of tricks?” Goten said, laughing.

“I think it’s like juggling and tumbling and stuff,” Marron said. “She’s really nice. Come on, it’ll be so fun!”

“I think we can handle that,” Trunks said, his hands in his pockets and smiling down at Marron. “Handing someone things. Sounds easy enough.”

“Yeah, I _think_ we’ll be strong enough,” Goten said, grinning.

“Great! I’ll tell her!” Marron said, racing off.

“A circus performer, huh?” Krillin said, surprised. “Huh. She didn’t look like a circus performer. You would think they look more… bendy. Like a gymnast. She looked pretty solid.”

\--

Krillin was busy for the next few minutes as people started to pour in. Most of the teenagers Krillin had never seen before, but as soon as Marron exited the stateroom, looking far too old for her age, the teen was quickly swarmed by the other teens. Krillin smiled at them, it was nice to see Marron so happy.

18 hadn’t come out of the stateroom yet. He should make sure that she was all right. He wandered towards the stateroom, and nearly bumped into Shawn coming out.

She looked nicer, Krillin reflected. She was wearing a black dress with many layers, her hair was in a messy bun on top of her head, and she had very heavy eyeliner on. She still didn't look like someone who could do flips or fly around on the trapeze, though.

“Oh,” Shawn said, upon seeing him. “Hi.”

“So, I hear you’re a circus performer!” Krillin said.

“Ah. Was, I guess,” Shawn said, laughing uneasily. “Marron strong-armed me into performing tonight, I hope that’s ok…”

“I’m sure it will be great!” Krillin said, smiling. “I hear you need some strong young men to help you?”

“Well, it’s for a bit more than anything, anyone will do, really…” Shawn said, awkwardly swaying from side to side.

“Well, we have an abundance of strong men,” Krillin said laughing. He turned around and quickly found Goten in the crowd.

“There’s one of the guys who will help you – Goten. Head over and say hello, he’s friendly enough. He can introduce you to Trunks, the other man.”

“Um, great,” Shawn said, moving towards Goten.

Krillin headed into the stateroom.

Behind him he heard Shawn turn around and say, “Wait, did you say _Trunks?”_

“Yeah, strange name, right?” Krillin said, calling behind him and waving to Shawn and heading into the stateroom.

“Hi,” he said, stepping in. He gasped when he saw 18. She was so beautiful already she didn’t really need any makeup but now she looked… beautiful.

“Hi,” he said again, softly, sitting on the bed in front of her. “Wow.”

18 sat looking at herself in the mirror, fiddling with the pearl necklace she always wore.

“Are… are you alright?” Krillin asked, softly. He sighed. This was terrible timing, he knew. But… somehow it felt like the right time.

“18, what’s going on? Are you... have you met someone else?”

18 looked stunned.

"No!" 18 exclaimed. "Of... of course not." She looked down at her hands.

“I saw you watching some porn a few months ago and it upset me,” 18 said solemnly.

Krillin blinked.

“Uh…” he said, tentatively. “…OK. But… I thought you didn’t mind if I did that…”

“I don’t mind… well, I don’t mind _normal_ dirty movies,” 18 said, “but this one was… gross.”

“Oh,” Krillin said, feeling incredibly embarrassed. “Um… yeah. Was it the one with… all the…”

“Vaginas?” 18 spat out. “Yes.”

“Yeah,” Krillin said, blushing furiously. “Yeah… it’s a weird one. It’s a ‘classic’, apparently.”

“A _classic_?” 18 repeated. “What does that mean?”

“It’s... kind of... famous. For – for what it is. You know. For dirty movies.”

18 scowled and looked at her reflection.

“I sometimes... um. I’m… um, sorry. I won’t watch it again. I didn’t like it that much, to be honest—“

“Oh, you looked like you were having quite a bit of fun, believe me…”

“Well… it was fun _enough_ ,” Krillin said, awkwardly. “I...uh... read a bit about it afterwards. It was so strange. Some people think it’s misogynist, because it’s like…”

“Vaginas without women?” 18 said dryly.

Krillin nodded.

“Yeah…” he swallowed. “So… is that why you don’t like it? Is… is that why you’ve been mad at me?”

18 glared at him.

“You don’t like _my_ vagina,” she spat out, embarrassment rushing into her eyes.

Krillin gaped at her.

“I… I do,” he said. “Why would you…”

“You _don’t.”_ 18 maintained. “You like it _in spite_ of what it is… You only like me _in spite_ of what I am!"

Krillin blinked.

“Do you mean… because you're an Android?”

“Yes, Krillin,” 18 said. “I have metal parts of me. Down  _there._ Parts of me you refuse to touch. We’ve been married over sixteen years and not once – _not once_ have you touched my… metal parts. Once you did, but you retracted your hand from it so quickly like it _burned_ you.”

“I… uh… you…. want me to touch them?”

18 didn’t answer, she just stared at him.

“I thought… I thought you didn’t want me to… you never mentioned it.” Krillin swallowed. “Um. Do you… do you even have nerves in them?”

18 continued to stare at him.

“You wish I had a normal vagina,” 18 continued, her voice sounding like she wasn’t about to let this conversation end so easily. “You hate mine.” Her voice cracked. “You want to be married to a nice, normal, human with a nice, normal, fleshy vagina—“

“No!” Krillin exclaimed. “That’s what you thought when you saw that video? Oh, 18…” He blinked very fast. “I love the way you look. Everywhere. I just… I thought maybe it would hurt you, or, or, or remind you that you were an Android…”

“I _can’t_ forget I’m an Andoid!” 18 snapped.

“Right…” Krillin said, swallowing. They almost never talked about her being an Android. He hadn’t known she was so sensitive about it.

He felt a bit conflicted. He felt bad for 18 – so, so bad. She had such a hard life. But a small part of him also knew he hadn’t done anything _wrong,_ exactly. And here he was, still getting snapped at… He inhaled, about to say something, when he caught a glimpse of the tears starting to form in 18’s eyes. Not now, he told himself. Talk this out first, talk about needing to communicate before three-month long dry spells happen later.

 “I… Listen,” Krillin said, haltingly. “I will do anything to any of your parts. I want… I want to make you feel good, 18. I love you. I love you so, so much.”

18 gave him another long stare. Krillin blushed.

“I don’t have nerves in the metal plates,” 18 said after a long silence. “But touching them sort of… presses them into nerves underneath. Like touching someone over a bra, or panties.”

“Oh,” Krillin said. “That makes sense.”

“You really will touch them?” 18 said, doubtfully. “You would even… lick them? You don’t think it’s disgusting? You don’t want to vomit at the thought of tasting steel when you taste me?”

“No!” Krillin said, a flush of desire awkwardly radiating through him. “You are _incredibly_ sexy, 18… I will... will do anything you want me to...”

18 gave him another long look, then walked over to the door and locked it. She turned around and, to Krillin’s shock, hiked up her dress and slid off her panties. She sat on top of the vanity she had been sitting in front of earlier, her dress still bunched up underneath her arms. She tilted herself closer to Krillin, exposing herself to him.

“Prove it," 18 said, her voice deep.

"Yep," Krillin said, eagerly kneeling in front of his wife. "Yepyepyep."


	7. The Same Way You Know Something Is Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pan and Bra are sent on a mission to collect 18 and Krillin -- what is taking them so long? -- and, upon finding them... indisposed, they sneak off to the kitchen for a snack.

“Should we knock?” Pan whispered to Bra.

“I think they’re fucking,” Bra whispered back, starting to giggle.

“What?” Pan hissed back.

“Yeah…” Bra breathed back, giggling. “Ew! Well, I don’t think we should… _interrupt_ them…”

“How can you tell?” Pan demanded, pressing an ear against the door.

As if on cue, a suspicious sounding _thump_ and an even more suspicious sounding gasp floated through the door.

Pan jumped away from the door, blushing furiously.

“Oh my God,” she squealed. “They _are_!”

“Yeah…” Bra said, giggling. “Ugh. Married people are so fucking gross. They fuck at so many inconvenient times…”

Bra saw Pan give her a little look.

“What?” she asked, frowning.

“I don’t think that’s… true of all married people,” Pan said at last.

“Really?” Bra said, sighing. “Ugh. My parents are the fucking worst.”

She glanced at Pan. God, Pan looked good in that orange dress. And sometimes, when she bent over, Bra could see the tops of a white, lacy bra…

“Let’s go sneak off to the kitchen,” Bra suggested, grabbing Pan’s hand. It was very warm.

“But… we’re supposed to get Krillin and 18… so they can welcome everyone to start the party…”

“The party's pretty much started. We’ll come back in a few minutes and see if they’re _done_ yet,” Bra said. “And if they finish before we’re back, I’m sure they’ll wander out, looking flushed.”

“I don’t know if 18 ever looks flushed,” Pan laughed, now following Bra towards the kitchen. “How did you know they were… making love before we heard them?”

“Oh…” Bra said, a blush creeping up her neck. “Um.”

“What?” Pan asked, as they wandered into the kitchen.

A chef looked at them, and was about to tell them to get out, but before he could say anything he realized just _who_ Bra looked quite a bit like.

“Miss Briefs…” the chef murmured.

“We just came for a snack,” Bra said airily, pulling Pan into a corner. “We’ll just hang out here.”

“Fine,” the chef said, sighing. “Do you want some chocolate-covered strawberries? These came out looking a bit wonky so we won’t serve them outside…”

“Sure,” Bra shrugged as a plate of strawberries with uneven-looking chocolate shells were placed in front of them.

Pan grabbed one and bit into it, a stream of red juice dribbling down her chin.

Shit, thought Bra, her heart hammering. Shit. She studied the strawberry in her hand.

“So,” Pan said, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. She glanced at the chef, and leaned forward to whisper into Bra’s ear. “ _How_ did you know they were fucking? Could you sense their energy?”

“Well…” Bra said, biting her lower lip. “I can… um… smell it when people are fucking. Or are, you know. Turned on. Attracted to other people.”

“ _What_?” Pan hissed.

“Yeah,” Bra said, giggling. “It’s, like a Saiyan thing. You can’t?”

“No!” Pan exclaimed.

“Dad thinks your dad can’t either,” Bra whispered. “I don’t know why. But probably because you and your Dad aren’t full Saiyan…”

“But… can Trunks?”

“Yeah,” Bra said. “It’s weird. We can tell when our parents are…”

“ _What?_ ” Pan said, looking horrified.

“Yeah,” Bra said, “and sometimes it’s like… the middle of the day. So we like… talk about how gross they are and like pretend to throw up and stuff.”

He actually had only started doing that relatively recently, Bra thought to herself. He only started after that one time, when I muttered something about how our parents should get a room and he laughed and laughed and laughed. Before he wouldn’t give any indication that he could tell. He probably thought I was too young…

“I wonder why _I_ can’t… Why does Vegeta think my Dad can’t?”

“He… probably noticed during some training session. Dad thinks it’s because he has stronger Saiyan genes than Goku...”

“Well, that’s not surprising,” Pan said, rolling her eyes. “He’s so… classist and elitist.”

Classist, thought Bra. That was such… a _Pan_ thing to say.

“How do you know?” Pan continued, urgently. “What does it… _smell_ like? When people are... like turned on?”

“Uh,” Bra said, tilting her head to one side. “I don’t know. I mean… it's not like everyone smells the same. People smell different from one another when they’re… in the mood. But I just _know_ they are, the same way you just _know_ something is burning.” She thought for a minute. “It smells a bit… deeper.”

“And when people are… sleeping together?”

“Oh, well… there’s a lot of sweat, and energy, and like… the smells of whoever is involved are like all… mixed together…”

“People smell differently from one another?”

“Yeah, of course,” Bra said, surprised.

“What… what does… Marron smell like?” Pan said, sort of uncertainly.

“Oh…” Bra said, wrinkling up her face to remember. “You know the smell of a lipstick? Kind of like… melted crayons?”

“Melted crayons?” Pan asked, surprised.

“Yeah… and snow.” Bra said, nodding. “Yeah.”

“And… Krillin?”

“Well, this is going to sound weird,” Pan said, giggling. “He smells a little bit like a newborn baby…”

“Like… poopy?”

“No, like… you know, how babies have a weird smell on their skin? It’s nice. It’s kind of… milky and soft.”

“I can’t say I have…” Pan said, looking startled.

“Well… they do. And he smells like that, but also like jasmine tea.”

“18?”

“She’s weird because she doesn’t have as much of a smell as, well, normal humans. But a bit like steel and whatever perfume she’s wearing. She smells cold.”

“Cold’s not a smell.”

“I know. But she smells like it.” Bra shrugged.

“Does anyone smell, like, really nasty?” Pan asked, looking amazed.

“Oh…” Bra frowned. “I mean, people sometimes get smelly, if they, like, fart or haven’t showered in a while or whatever. But most people’s normal smells are pretty nice. Oh, that quarterback at the high school? I don’t like his smell at all. It’s like… black pepper and licorice. But I think that’s just because I hate licorice…”

“Oh…” Pan said thoughtfully. “What… what do I smell like?”

“Oh,” Bra said, blushing. “Well…”

“Is it bad?”

“No!” Bra said immediately. “No, it’s nice… it’s like… the sea, and salt, and warm bread.”

“Oh.” Pan said looking down, looking embarrassed. Bra could _smell_ the embarrassment wafting over her, embarrassment and uncertainty. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her… Bra worried, biting her lower lip.

“So… like, do you know who people have crushes on?”

Bra gulped.

“Um,” Bra said, laughing slightly, her hands starting to shake.

“Because I think Marron likes that guy in the math club, the one she’s always teasing…”

Bra relaxed.

“Oh, him…” Bra said, clearing her throat slightly. “I think so, too. But Marron likes a lot of guys. Or at least… thinks lots of guys are attractive.” Bra leaned closer to Pan’s ear.

“Marron thinks Goten is really hot,” she whispered.

“No!” Pan said, looking aghast.

“Yeah,” Bra said, giggling. “But I think she doesn’t, really, _like_ him. Lots of boys at school _like-like_ her, though…”

“That’s not surprising,” Pan said darkly. “She’s so beautiful and hot…”

Bra gave Pan a little sideways look.

“We should go check on Krillin and 18,” Pan said, sighing.

“OK,” Bra agreed, hoping that Pan felt beautiful.  


	8. My Boyfriends, Trunks and Goten!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shawn performs her act! Trunks likes it.

“Wait, did you say _Trunks?_ ” Shawn whipped around, but Krillin was already too far away to hear her. She whipped around again.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

What were the odds, she thought to herself, that it was a different Trunks?

Not great. God, this could be _their_ boat! She should have asked the name of the “rich family” that was chartering the boat… shit.

“Hey – are you the circus performer? 18's friend?”

“Yes!” Shawn said, turning around too quickly to see a handsome dark-haired man smiling towards her. “And you are…”

“Goten. One of your assistants, I guess,” the man said, earnestly laughing and taking a sip of his drink.

“Right,” Shawn said, nervously tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. It doesn’t matter, she told herself. Yes, she would have to see that Trunks man… and probably _all_ of the Briefs… whom she would probably see again, anyway… so…

The thing was, she had put some _time_ into that little… bit with the magazine, the quiz about sex. She had spent some time thinking through how to make sure Trunks had left the meeting feeling unsettled, like he had lost. And he _had._ She knew it.

But now they were on _his_ turf. If this was his goddamn boat… and she was less good at thinking on the fly than she should be. For God’s sake, she’d been having snippy and aggressive conversations with people for basically her whole life, and she _still_ played them out in her head like it was an act, a bit, a performance… She _hated_ that about herself...

“So, what will we be helping you with?” Goten said, waving someone over. “I’m just getting your other helper, Trunks.”

“…Great!” Shawn said tightly, looking at the ground. Great. If Trunks was ugly, this would be a bit easier. If he was less intelligent – she had looked up a bit about him, and he either was smart, or good at cheating – it would be easier. 

“Shawn, meet Trunks,” Goten said, pulling Trunks over.

Shawn felt the blush creep up her throat and glanced down at the ground.

“Um, hi,” she said, awkwardly handing out a hand.

Trunks didn’t take it. He stared at her, stunned.

“What are _you_ doing here?” he asked sharply. “Did you… did you follow me?”

“Yes,” Shawn said sarcastically. “I _followed_ you to a sixteen-year-old’s birthday party. You caught me.”

“Well, what are you doing here?’ Trunks demanded.

“You two know each other?” Goten asked, looking surprised.

“Yes… through work,” Shawn said, willing her voice to seem nonchalant. “I’m a friend of 18, she asked me to come and help her and Marron get ready… I didn’t know you would be here.”

“My family chartered the boat,” Trunks said accusingly. God, he really does have the upper hand here, Shawn thought miserably.

“Yes, she just told me it was a ‘rich family’s’ yacht. I’m _so_ sorry I didn’t immediately assume it was your family’s… I really should’ve, the Briefs being, of course, the only rich family in the world--”

“So, what do you do, Shawn?” Goten said quickly, trying valiantly to save the social encounter. Aw, Shawn thought. He seems like such a nice man, this Goten.

“She’s the person I was telling you about,” Trunks cut in sharply. “Who told us about the reorganization plan.”

“Oh,” Goten said, surprised. “Well… hey, that’s great. You really helped out the Briefs, sounds like. I bet Bulma will want to shake your hand…”

“Well…” Shawn said, laughing a little. “I don’t know about _that_ …”

“You’re a circus performer?” Trunks demanded, undeterred by Goten.

“No. Yes. I mean…” Shawn said.

“I’m starting to think you’re a compulsive liar,” Trunks accused.

“Geez, calm down, Trunks!” Goten said, laughing uncomfortably and clapping a hand on Trunks’s back.

“I am _not_ lying,” Shawn said through gritted teeth. “I grew up with circus performers, I was one. I stopped doing it professionally after I injured myself. But I still _can_ perform, sometimes. I’ve been wanting to start doing it more, actually… to make some extra money...”

“Oh? Like a side gig?” Goten said. “That makes sense.”

Goten nodded at his drink.

“Do you want a drink, Shawn? Or not until after you go on? They were thinking of opening the party with your tricks…”

Oh yes, Shawn thought. Drinks. She should get ready.

“Yes, a very large cold water,” Shawn said, “would be great. Actually, bring two of those.”

“Trunks, why don’t you get that,” Goten said firmly.

Trunks rolled his eyes, but sauntered off.

“I don’t know what has gotten into him,” Goten said, gently taking Shawn’s shoulder and steering her towards front of the boat near the dance floor. “Well, actually, I do. The news about the company has unsettled him and his mother quite a bit. And I think you… surprised him in that meeting,” Goten said, laughing a bit. “I think he was expecting to meet with a stuffy, suit-wearing man.”

“Mmm,” Shawn said. “Yes. I think so, too.”

“He’s just being a bit… snippy about the whole thing, but I know he really appreciates you telling him about what the Board’s up to… They care about the company a lot, Trunks and Bulma both.”

“Mmm…” Shawn murmured, sighing. Man, she _really_ hoped she didn't injure herself during the set this time. That would be unbearable. Better skip the cartwheels...

Trunks wandered back with an ice water.

“Thank you,” Shawn said, taking a large gulp of one of the waters. She started to relax a little as she felt the cool water slide down her throat and pool in her stomach. She could do this. Do the performance – nothing fancy, normal stuff, no cartwheels - and then just… mingle. It would be fine.

“No problem,” Trunks sighed. “So? What are we doing with you onstage?”

“Well,” Shawn said, taking another sip of the water and trying to collect herself. “I’ll make some jokes—“

“You’re a clown?” Trunks demanded, sounding irritated and triumphant at the same time.

“Not really, no.” Shawn said, anger rising in her. She tried to push it down. “But I make some jokes in the act. All I’ll need you two to do is follow directions I tell you onstage. And pass me some swords, occasionally. Hilt-first. That’s the non-pointy bit,” Shawn added murderously.

“I know what a hilt is,” Trunks said, through gritted teeth.  

“Trunks fights with swords sometimes,” Goten explained, laughing again.

“Well, good,” Shawn said irritably, taking another large gulp of water. “This should be easy for you, then.”

\--

When Trunks went towards the stateroom to collect that... that _woman's_ props, he was encountered by a _very_ giggly Bra and Pan leaning in front of the stateroom door.

“Where have you been? Didn’t Mom ask you to get 18 and Krillin a while ago?” he asked them, frowning. “Bra, you have chocolate on the side of your face.”

“They’ve been _busy_ ,” Pan said, giggling.

He sniffed. Ah, yeah, there it was. Well, boats were romantic. He guessed. Whatever. Married people always fucked at really inconvenient times.

“OK,” he said sighing. “I’ll get them.”

“Hi, Lovebirds…” he called into the door, pounding on it. “You’ve got to start the party, and I need to get Shawn’s… props, or whatever. Her swords. And shoes.”

“Swords?” Bra asked, after giggling some more.

“Apparently,” Trunks said, as the door swung open to reveal an ecstatic and rumpled-looking Krillin, and a completely normal-looking 18. The scents of sex, and relief, and joy wafted out of the room. Aw. It was pretty cute, really. They were cute. I mean, insufferable and irritating... but cute.

“Hi,” Trunks continued, patting Krillin on the back and passing him into the room. “They’re ready for you to welcome everyone. I’m grabbing Shawn’s stuff. She says she’s pretty much ready whenever.”

“Oh…” 18 said, frowning and patting her perfect-hair. “Krillin, your hair got all rumpled…”

Trunks quickly found the large kit in the middle of the room. Shawn really should have come to get this stuff, but Goten kept sending him on little errands. He was trying to separate Shawn and him and their bickering, he knew. Or he wanted to talk to her alone, he thought, his stomach tightening up unexpectedly. Huh. _That_ would be weird… Well, if Goten likes horrible women with horrible noses, that’s on him… Trunks assured himself, opening the lower hatch of the case as Shawn had told him to do.

A pair long swords, about a foot and a half long each, greeted him. He touched one, tentatively. Huh. It wasn’t sharp at all. It was more a metal pole than anything else… Figures, he thought, it’s just a trick…

Underneath them were three small daggers and a pair of worn, leather boots. The daggers were probably dull, too, Trunks thought irritably, touching one. Oh. No, actually those were relatively sharp. Well… well, still. Whatever. Knives were supposed to be sharp, this wasn’t anything spectacular…

He grabbed them along with the boots, snapped the case shut, and stomped out of the room.

There wasn’t really a stage on the boat. There was a dance floor, with a little stand for a DJ off to the side. Goten and Shawn were standing a bit behind the stand; 18 and Krillin were standing on the stage, holding a microphone.

“Hi,” Trunks said, proffering the items to Shawn. “We… we’re on soon, huh?”

“Yep,” Shawn said, kicking off her flats and sliding into the boots. “It’ll be fun, easy. Don’t worry about it.”

"I'm not," Trunks snapped.

"Good," Shawn said, rolling her eyes.

She grabbed the daggers, and gave them both one of the longer swords.

“Just hold these, I’ll tell you what to do, everything will be great,” she whispered towards them, giving them a smile. Trunks blinked. He hadn’t seen her… smile. Not exactly. Sneer would be a better description… But now she looked... excited. She _smelled_ excited too, it was... nice.

He heard Krillin introduce Shawn, and then she was nodding at them to follow her, and… they were suddenly standing in front of the whole party, which suddenly seemed a lot bigger. Trunks could feel himself starting to blush.

“Hello!” Shawn called, easily holding the daggers in one hand and taking the microphone from Krillin. “Hello, everyone! Um… can you all see me?”

They couldn’t.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Shawn said, directing the people in the front of the crowd to sit on the floor, the people in the back standing.

“All right,” Shawn said, when they were done. “All right! Here we go. So. You know my name is Shawn, and you know I’m here to do some circus tricks, is that right?”

There were some cheers.

“OK, great. Well, I grew up in a circus, believe it or not. Well… kind of a circus. My parents were what they call ‘sideshow’ or ‘freak show’ performers. Yep. See my nose here?” Shawn tapped the tip of her nose with the daggers.

“Yeah. My father was the Man With The World’s Longest Nose. Not kidding. He even had a certificate. It was longer than mine, although maybe not by much. And… my mother was a Bearded Lady. Yep. A lady who grew a beard. Better than my father’s beard. Very... luscious, very long. Very brown.

“And… and I know you’re asking yourself, because I’ve done this a few times, you’re wondering – well, she got the nose, did she get the beard?”

Shawn paused as there was so laughing.

“And the answer, of course, is yes. What I spend on razors and aftershave in a month? Most people’s car payments.”

More laughter.

Trunks gaped at her. He wondered if it was true. Well, probably not the car payments bit, but the shaving...

“So, there I was, a small girl growing up in the freak show, and my parents said to me… they said… ‘Listen, kid, you’re great, _really_ you are… but you’re just _not_ going to find a boyfriend.’”

Chuckling.

“A teenager with a beard coming in and a nose like yours? Probably not destined for matrimony. Better find some other way to keep yourself entertained.”

More laughter.

“So, I said, fine. Swords will be my lovers, that’s fine. I don’t need a boyfriend when I have swords. I mean, a sword can kill something, can most men? Probably not. They'd like to pretend otherwise, of course...”

More laughter.

“And so I have two _primary_ boyfriends, the swords called Harry and Larry…” Shawn waved behind her to the swords Goten and Trunks were holding, “held right now by these beautiful young men. Aren’t they gorgeous? Give them a round of applause!”

Clapping, and laughing. Trunks felt himself blushing. Shawn glanced behind her at them.

“Oh, that one over there is blushing, even,” she said. “Just adorable.”

More laughing.

“The blushing one with the purple hair is called Trunks, the short and dark one on the other side is called Goten. Wave, boys!”

Goten laughed and heartily waved, Trunks tried to stop blushing and also waved.

“This is the closest I’ve been to such handsome boys in years, I tell you,” Shawn said, moving back so she was more in line with the two of them. More laughing.

“Oh! I’m making him blush more!” Shawn said, nodding at Trunks. “What a guy. Modest. Probably not single, but what are you going to do.” Louder laughter.

“He is single! Recently!”

Trunks closed his eyes as he heard Goku’s earnest voice call through the crowd. 

Dear God, Goku, he thought...

The crowd laughed.

Trunks considered how angry Goten and his mother would be if he murdered Goku.

“Oho!” Shawn said, laughing slightly. “Recently! Well. Look at that. Well, recently-single Trunks and Goten, the first thing I’m going to ask you to do is to verify that those are real swords, not trick swords.”

Trunks glanced at Goten, frowning slightly. They _weren’t_ real swords, were they? They were thin, they were dull… did she expect them to lie? She hadn’t told them that…

“What?” Shawn said, coming closer to him. “What, newly-single Trunks?” She gave him the microphone.

Trunks glared at her. He wasn’t going to _lie_ for her, not after all this… this… goddamn _teasing._

“They’re very dull,” Trunks said into the microphone.

“They are dull,” Shawn agreed. “They are dull. But they’re solid – go ahead, hit them against each other, make sure they don’t collapse. No buttons on them or anything – switches, anything like that?”

Goten enthusiastically smacked his on the ground, Trunks did so after a moment’s pause. They remained rigid. They both checked them for hidden switches or buttons. Nothing.

“En guarde!” Goten called out, eliciting a laugh from the audience and striking an overly dramatic fighting pose.

Trunks laughed slightly and whacked his sword against Gotens. Rigid.

“Great!” Shawn called out. “Yep, they are rigid, not collapsible… great. But yes, they’re dull… I mean, I’d have to be pretty stupid to do sword tricks with _sharp_ blades, right?

“Well, I’ve never been the _smartest,_ ” Shawn continued. “Grew up in a circus slash freak show, remember? Didn’t even finish high school. Stay in school kids. You don’t want to end up like me, a lady who has to shave her chin every morning and night and has therapists who seriously ask her ‘Why don’t you get a nose job?’ when they hear about my problems with low self-esteem…”

Laughter.

“But _these_ daggers, my _baby_ swords… are indeed sharp.” Shawn finished, setting down the microphone and two of the daggers.

She took a thin piece of her hair and quickly cut it with one of the daggers. The crowd cheered as she cut the shorn piece in even smaller pieces with the other two daggers.

She grinned, and then started to juggle the knives.

It was… very impressive, Trunks had to admit. Huh. Juggling daggers. She had to make sure to grab the right part of the dagger, or she would catch it by the blade… Still, there were only three of them. 

Shawn caught all of the daggers, to applause and cheering. She set down the daggers, and picked up the microphone.

“All right…” she said, her voice slightly breathless. “Thanks…” she said, waiting for the applause to die down.

“So… obviously I have an enormous nose,” Shawn began. “And, yes, people have often asked me why I don’t save up to get a nose job, to just… you know, shave it off a bit. I certainly know enough about shaving… Bearded lady, remember?”

Laughter.

“Well, I am just not sure I could do _this_ with a shaved down nose,” Shawn said, setting down the microphone once again and gesturing to Trunks to hand her the sword. He did so, hilt-first. Shawn went over to Goten and whispered something in his ear. He nodded at her, smiling, and she patted him on the back.

Shawn leaned back her head and put the tip of the hilt on her nose. After a few seconds, she released her hands, balancing the sword on the tip of her nose.

Trunks was close enough to her that he could see her breathing become, slower, steadier… he could see her face become softer as she concentrated…

Shawn extended her hand towards Goten, and he moved forward and handed her the other sword, hilt first. Still balancing the sword on her nose, she carefully took it… bent a knee and raised her right foot… and slowly placed the hilt of the second sword on the top of the toe bed of her right boot.

Trunks felt his eyes go a bit wider.

She released her hand on that sword – it balanced as well.

The crowd erupted into cheers.

Shawn quickly grabbed the sword off of her nose, bending over slightly and grabbing the sword off of her foot.

She walked back toward Goten and Trunks, giving them each a sword again, grabbing the microphone off the ground again.

“All right…” she said into the mike, her voice even breathier than before. “You know how I said my swords were my lovers – my boyfriends? Well, that trick is what I call balancing two boyfriends at once. Hardest on Valentine’s Day.”

Hah-hah, thought Trunks sarcastically. These jokes were pretty bad…

“But the swords, Larry and Harry – or was it Barry and Larry? God, I’m such a bad girlfriend, I can’t even remember my boyfriends’ names – are now with Trunks and Goten… maybe we should just call them Trunks and Goten for now, right? What do you guys think?”

Cheers.

“Yes, my boyfriends, Trunks and Goten!”

More cheers. Trunks wished he could stop blushing.

“And for my final trick… I can only use either Goten or Trunks. It’s like a very serious date. A meal at the Ritz, you can’t go with two men. They’ll look all askance at you.”

Laughter.

“So, audience, should I go on this date with Goten…” Goten waved, laughing, striking a few poses as the crowd cheered.

“Or, the newly-single, bashful and blushing Trunks?!” Shawn called out. The crowd cheered much louder.

Oh my God, Trunks thought to himself. What is happening to me? _Why_ is this happening to me?

“Trunks it is, then,” Shawn said, setting down the microphone and grabbing the sword Trunks was holding.

She began to – to Trunks’s horror – _lick_ a side of the sword lasciviously. When she reached the tip of the sword she licked that, giving Trunks himself a little wink, which caused the crowd to whistle and laugh. She walked to the center of the stage, still licking the other half of the sword.

Trunks felt her energy get calmer, and calmer. It felt… strange. She was obviously relaxing some muscles, preparing mentally for the act… but he had never felt a human… _relax_ in quite this way before. It was like she was… relaxing her organs, or something.

Shawn lifted her head, looking up at the sky, and slowly placed the tip at her open mouth.

She _can’t_ be about to _swallow_ it, Trunks thought, his eyes wide. He’d heard of sword swallowers, but he was sure they all used… collapsible swords… realizing why Shawn had wanted him and Goten to verify the swords weren’t collapsible.

Trunks watched in horror as Shawn slowly slid the sword down her mouth and into her throat.

It was… disgusting. It made him want to gag. How was _she_ not gagging? _Could_ it be real? She was like... a snake. With... a long nose.

And then, when the hilt of the sword was only a centimeter above her mouth, Shawn removed her hands from the sword and very slowly turned around. And there was, apparently, a rigid steel sword down her throat... her soft, fleshy, throat. And, although he had no idea why, something clicked in Trunks's psyche.

“Fuck,” Trunks muttered to himself as the crowd exploded in raucous cheering.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, he thought. _Fuck_ is that _hot_. His clothing suddenly felt too tight and too loose at the same time.

And then, Shawn placed two fingers underneath each side of the hilt, and was slowly, slowly removing it front her throat. Trunks could see her face now – she looked happy, but also looked a bit like she was wincing, and she was tearing up… her eye makeup was starting to run slightly…

Fuck. The whole sword shone with her saliva.

Trunks gulped, feeling his blush spread down his neck.

Shawn bowed, and grabbed the microphone.

“Thanks for having me,” she said, her voice slightly hoarse, because she had just had a fucking  _sword_ down it, ( _Fuck_ , thought Trunks, trying not to tremble) “and give a big round of applause for my formidable helpers, the endlessly-attractive Goten and Trunks!”

The crowd cheered, and Shawn led them both off-stage.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Information about sword swallowing:
> 
> https://everipedia.org/wiki/Sword_swallowing/
> 
> http://www.swordswallow.com/faq.php#what


	9. I'm Not A Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta talks to Shawn, and then Bra, and learns some things about the human condition.

The girl who put the sword down her throat was standing alone near the railing of the boat. She was looking out at the water. She wasn’t eating.

Vegeta stood up, still holding the large turkey leg he was eating, and strode over to her, taking a large bite as he went.

“You’re not eating,” he said, leaning on the railing next to her.

“Oh,” she said, startled by his sudden arrival. “No. It takes a while for me to eat solid food after, you know. The sword swallowing.”

“Mmm,” Vegeta said, taking another large bite of turkey and considering her. “I think my son found you very attractive up there.”

The girl didn’t look surprised. That was irritating. She _should_ be surprised. She wasn’t that attractive. And his son, _his_ son was… was a half-Saiyan, dammit!

“Oh… you’re Mr. Vegeta? Ms. Briefs’s husband?”

“I am,” Vegeta said.

He said nothing for a few minutes, instead just chewing his food, glaring at her.

Finally, the sword-woman sighed.

“Some people find the whole thing – sword swallowing – kind of sexy,” the girl said after a few seconds.

“Well, why the hell is that?” Vegeta barked. He had been a little startled to see his son up there… _blushing._ “The danger?”

“Well… sure. And… I mean, it’s… suggestive. No gag reflux, all that.”

“Does that make people stronger? Not having a gag reflux?”

The girl stared at him for a few seconds, then rolled her eyes.

“Oh, don’t play stupid with me,” she said irritably.

“Fine, don’t tell me, see if I care,” Vegeta grumbled, eating more of the turkey leg.

The girl gave him a little sideways look.

“Of fellatio,” she said at last. “It reminds people of fellatio.”

“What’s that? A kind of illness?”

Two minutes later, Vegeta was outraged.

“That’s a thing? People _do_ that?”

“Yep. Just wait until I tell you about cunnilingus.”

“Oh, I know what _that_ is,” Vegeta scoffed. “I’m not a child.”

“Huh,” the girl said, cocking her head at him. “Well… I’m glad this was an informative conversation for you. I’m sure you’ll have an interesting evening with Bulma Briefs tonight.”

“Don’t think about my Woman that way,” Vegeta snapped.

“Your ‘woman’?” The sword-girl scoffed. “Hah. Okay.”

“Hmmm,” Vegeta said, looking her up and down. She smelled… brave. Hmm.

“What are you talking with Shawn about, Dad?”

Oh. The Boy had come over here, and he smelled suspicious and nervous.

“I’m telling your father about fellatio,” the sword-girl said, deadpan.

“What?” The Boy exclaimed, looking horrified.

“Yep.”

“Did _you_ know what that was?!” Vegeta asked his son suspiciously.

“Um…” The Boy said, looking embarrassed and horrified. Ugh. Humans and their “boundaries.” Ohhhh, we’re humans, we pretend to be totally asexual unless we are with the person we’re fucking! We are so precious, so amazing, so _delicate._ And he was only half-humans! 

“I was just telling your… Father,” the Sword-girl said, winking at the Boy, “That some people find the whole thing…sword swallowing, I mean, kind of. You know. Hot.” She took a sip of her glass. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. I’m used to it. I know you’re not, you know. Really attracted to _me._ The sword’s doing the heavy lifting.”

“I never said I _was_ attracted to you,” the boy said, that infernal blush starting again. Jesus, Vegeta thought. He’s got to learn to control that.

“Right. I’m confirming that I know you’re not,” Shawn said, rolling her eyes.

“I’m relieved that it’s a… a _thing_ with some humans,” Vegeta scoffed. “I was starting to think you… you _liked_ her. She’s basically a jester. She’s still probably better than Yamcha’s spawn, though.”

“This has been a really great conversation,” the sword-girl said, starting to walk away, when she stopped and shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You did _not_ just say Yamcha, did you? He’s not _here,_ is he?”

“Do you know him?” The Boy asked, surprised.

“What is it with you and Yamcha-affiliated ladies?” Vegeta spat at the Boy. “This _cannot_ continue, do you hear me?”

“Shawn!” The voice of that insufferable Yamcha floated there way.

“This goddamn, _fucking_ day,” the sword-girl muttered, staring down at her drink and looking like she wished she could drown in it. As if. She was enormous. Those shoulders.

The Idiot came over to them, grinning like a loon.

“Gotta say, Shawn, you do better with a pole,” Yamcha said, laughing. God, he sounded slightly drunk. What an asshole.

“Mmmm…” The Sword-girl said, looking like she wished she could kill and eat Yamcha. Well. She had some sense, then.

“How is swallowing a pole better than a sword?” Vegeta demanded.

“Hah!” the Idiot said, waving his drink around slightly. “No. There’s a strip club over in West City called Paradisimo where Shawn would act. They also had a contortionist and a fire-eater.”

“You were a stripper?” The Boy asked. Ugh, Vegeta thought. Is he going to get all turned-on again? Ugh. He never should have come over here. Still, at least now Sword-girl would probably hate them all, which would be a plus.

“No,” Sword-girl said tightly. “I was a performer in a venue with strippers.”

“Did you… pole dance?”

“She could spin around the pole with the sword down her throat,” the idiot remembered fondly.

Ugh. Like that would be hard.

“There has always been a pretty strong association with freak shows and well… exotic dancing,” the Sword-girl said hotly, now starting to blush. Not as much as my goddamn son, though, Vegeta thought glumly. “But we’re not strippers. I wasn’t, and either was the fire-eater or the contortionist…”

“No,” Yamcha said, “that fire-eater would do a _lot_ if you paid her extra—“

Vegeta saw something in the Sword-girl’s face snap.

“Yamcha, I swear to fucking god, what are you doing right now? Do you want to fight? Is that what the _fuck_ this is? You come over here bringing up shit on this nice, fucking ship? With people I have to _fucking_ work with?”

“What?” the Idiot asked, looking confused. God, he was the worst. “No, I… I thought we were pals… Why do you have to work with Vegeta?”

“I’m going to walk away now,” the Sword-girl said, starting to shake slightly. “Because if I stay, I might kill you.”

The Sword-girl walked away from a bewildered looking Yamcha.

“Actually, she’s okay,” Vegeta said, grinning. He took another bite of his turkey leg. “Hard to believe she’s not related to Raditz, though. She looks _just_ like him.”

\--

Vegeta thoughtfully wandered through the small corridor which led to the cabins of the ship. He could tell Bra was down here somewhere… with Pan, but that didn’t matter. The Woman paid for the boat. And… well, she would have to get used to it sooner or later.

He isolated the right door and smashed it open.

Pan and Bra were sitting very close together on one of the small beds.

“Dad!” Bra cried, leaping up, looking angry.

Pan buried her head in her hands.

“Family Meeting!” Vegeta barked.

“…What?” Bra asked, looking confused.

“Family Meeting! We’re having one! Right now!”

“Um... should I leave?” Pan asked, looking confused. “And… get Trunks and Bulma?”

“No, it’s fine, you can stay,” Vegeta said, crossing his arms across his chest. “And no, Trunks and Bulma don’t need to be here for this meeting.”

“It’s not a Family Meeting if it’s just you and me,” Bra said, rolling her eyes. “That’s called Talking To Your Child.”

“That sounds stupid,” Vegeta scoffed. “So, what do you think of the Sword-Woman?”

“Shawn?” Bra asked.

“That’s what I said.”

“Oh my God…” Bra said, flopping back down on the bed. “This is about Trunks, isn’t it?”

“Well, obviously…She's basically a jester. He can do better.”

“Dad, you can’t just go and make a big scene any time Trunks is… attracted to anyone! My God, how did you survive his teenage years?”

“Huh.” Vegeta said, cocking his head to one side. “I don’t know. I never took it as seriously. It took the horror of him _dating_ someone related to _Yamcha_ for me to realize how deadly serious this all is…”

“OK.” Bra said, sighing and looking at him like he was slightly insane. 

“Trunks likes Shawn?” Pan said, frowning.

“I don’t know,” Bra said. “He was attracted to her when she was performing, but I don’t know if that means anything. I guess it was kind of suggestive…”

“Do _you_ two know what fellatio is?” Vegeta demanded suddenly.

Pan looked like she wished she were dead. Ugh. The human aloofness again. Wasn’t she a quarter-Saiyan?

“Yes, Dad.” Bra said, irritably.

“Huh,” Vegeta said, darkly.

“Did you have any other sex-acts you want to see if we’re aware of?” Bra asked, rolling her eyes. “Or did you just want to talk about Shawn more?”

“You don’t think it’s possible she’s related to Raditz?”

“Who’s Raditz?”

“Kakarot’s brother. Weak. Looked just like Shawn. Except a man, a Saiyan, and with pointier hair. The Sword-Woman has kind of… bushy hair. Not a lot of... points. Also she has breasts, and hips, and a longer nose than Raditz. Still, though.”

“Kakarot has a brother?”

“He’s dead.” Vegeta said shortly.

“OK.” Bra said, standing up. “I think it’s unlikely that she’s related to a dead-Saiyan.”

“Hmmm….” Vegeta said. “You’re probably right. Still, she’s better than Yamcha’s child.”

“A Fleshlight would be better than Ruti,” Bra said disgustedly, starting to pull Pan out of the room.

"Don't be shitty, Bra," Pan snapped. "Ruti's nice."

“What the hell’s a Fleshlight?” Vegeta barked.

Two minutes later, Vegeta was horrified.

“How do _you_ know that?” Vegeta asked suspiciously. “How did you two know about fellatio? What do they _teach_ you at that school?”


	10. a fetish for feminism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goten chats with Trunks! I am bad at chapter summaries when the chapters are so short!

Goten grabbed the two beers that the bartender was proffering him and headed back towards his seat. Trunks’s seat, next to his, was empty.

Frowning, he glanced around until he saw him in a little group near the side of the ship. Vegeta, Yamcha, Trunks and… Shawn were talking, when suddenly Shawn stalked off, looking angry. Yamcha looked hurt. Huh.

Shawn… reminded him of... someone. It was… stange. Unsettling.

Trunks came back to his seat, and Goten handed him the beer.

“Thanks,” Trunks said, taking a big gulp.

“What were you talking to _them_ about?” Goten asked.

“Shawn was talking to Dad. I wanted to make sure he wasn't going to kill and eat her, or something.” Trunks said, rolling his eyes.

“She left looking mad,” Goten remarked.

Trunks leaned close into Goten’s head to whisper something into his ear.

“She worked in a strip club, apparently. Paradisimo. Yamcha had seen her there a lot, apparently.”

“Oh,” said Goten, carefully modulating his breath. “That makes sense.”

“Yeah?” Trunks asked, glancing at him. “Have we been there?”

“Yeah,” Goten said, a grin sneaking over his face. “That was the last place we went to at your birthday last year. After that bar on Curry Street.”

“Oh man…” Trunks said, laughing and taking another sip. “I was so drunk. I barely remember the bar on Curry Street.”

“They had… you know. Alternative girls. Tattooed. Not all of them strippers, either. Cage dancers, that sort of thing.”

Goten took another sip of his beer, the wheels in his head turning.

“They’re unionized,” he said after a moment. “Maybe that’s how Shawn started working with unions.”

“They’re _what_?” Trunks asked, surprised. “Who?”

“The people at Paradisimo. The girls.”

“The strippers?” Trunks whispered to him.

“Yeah.” Goten said, nodding. “Strippers, bartenders, performers. We were trying to figure out what strip club to go to and Gohan kept yelling about not wanting to go a place where people are sex trafficked and aren’t paid fairly. And so I googled ‘Strip Club Where Girls Are Paid Well’ to shut him up, and Paradisimo came up. They’re the only unionized strip club in the country, apparently. I had to scream all this at Gohan while simultaneously punching him on the shoulder to get him to go. So we went there, even though it was farther and more expensive to get in.”

“ _Gohan_ went?” Trunks hissed to Goten. “To a strip club? Really?”

“Yes. I can’t believe you don’t remember this,” Goten said, rolling his eyes. “We were screaming about the possibility of sex trafficking like… on the sidewalk just on Curry Street. You kept yelling that you thought Gohan had a fetish for feminism, over and over.You apparently thought it was very funny. It’s amazing we didn’t get arrested for disorderly conduct.”

“There was some redhead who was juggling torches. She kept flirting with you.”

“Really? Was she cute?”

“Very.” Goten said, grinning at Trunks.

“I don’t remember it at all!” Trunks hissed back at him. "Oh. Wait. Did she have a tattoo of Jupiter on her back?"

"Yes." 

"I vaguely remember giving someone with that tattoo a lot of money."

“Well, it _was_ your birthday. You were pretty far gone by that point in the night. We can go again, if you want.”

“Hmm…” Trunks said, thoughtfully. “I can’t believe Gohan went. Videl didn’t mind?”

“I assume she didn’t know about it,” Goten shrugged back. “He was tipsy, too. He talked to most of them about working conditions, anyway. And, at one point, statistics. I think they found him charming.”

“I need to get better at holding my liquor,” Trunks mumbled, taking another sip of his beer.

Goten grinned. A part of him _didn’t_ want that. Trunks tended to get slap-happy when he was drunk. It was… nice. He would become amazingly gregarious, kinder than usual, would laugh a lot… He would continually call Goten his “bro,” his “bud,” over and over again, sometimes holding him close and slurring in Goten’s ear how wonderful Goten was, what a great bro he was…

Goten didn’t know exactly how he felt about Trunks.

It felt like the biggest mystery of his life.

He knew he didn’t want to have sex with Trunks – the idea made him feel tight in the chest, panicky… dirty even.

So the other obvious option was that Trunks was like an older brother to him – that made sense. They had spent a lot of time together growing up, and he had always looked up to Trunks… But it didn’t seem completely normal to feel _so_ elated when Trunks was happy around him, to feel _so_ concerned when Trunks was irritated, and to get a tight knot in his stomach whenever Trunks was near a woman he liked.

Women that Trunks thought were pretty weren’t a problem, or else the little trip to the strip club would have been torturous. Trunks thought _lots_ of women were pretty, and because Goten could tell from Trunks’s scent when he wanted to fuck someone, Goten was well-acquainted with Trunks’s libido.

He didn’t want to fuck Trunks, after all.

But when Trunks _liked_ someone, well, that was worse. When he wanted to _spend time_ with someone. That was horrible. Trunks should spend time with, well, him.

“Was… was Shawn there? When we went there?” Trunks asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but Goten knew better. Trunks glanced over his shoulder, clearly looking for Shawn.

“No,” Goten said, draining his beer. "I think I would have remembered a sword-swallower." He couldn’t get a read on the situation with Shawn and Trunks. Ever since they had run into her, Trunks had been constantly looking for her. It was like he always wanted to know where she was at all times. But he would just… scowl at her. But Goten didn’t really appreciate Shawn taking up too much of Trunks’s mental energy.

And there was also the way she smelled. Odd.

He wanted to talk to someone about it.

As focused on Shawn as Trunks irritably seemed, it was hard to lose him. Eventually, though, Trunks excused himself to use the bathroom and Goten was able to wander over to the deck chair that Vegeta was laying on, looking bored and chewing on a toothpick.

“Vegeta,” Goten said, sitting on the chair next to you. “I want to talk to you about something.”

“Mmm,” Vegeta said, glancing at him. “Now?”

“In a few minutes…”

“Private?”

“Probably best.”

“We can go into one of the cabins, then…” Vegeta said, ambling up and wandering towards the cabins.

The nice thing about Vegeta was that he never asked too many questions before Goten or Gohan asked to talk to him. It was understood it would be about “Saiyan stuff” – stuff that, for whatever reason, Gohan and Goten didn’t want to talk to their father about. The bad thing about Vegeta was that he would yell and pitch a fit if he thought the questions he was asked were too stupid, too ridiculous, “beneath” him. There was no way to tell.

This would probably be one of those cases.

Still, though.

Vegeta ambled off towards the cabins and Goten sighed and went off to find Krillin. He... might be able to help.


	11. Do Not Attempt To Contact Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goten tells Vegeta and Krillin about how oddly Shawn smells.
> 
> Shawn moves out.

“Oh, God,” Krillin said as soon as he entered the cabin and saw Vegeta lazily lying on one of the small beds, irritably tapping one of his hands on the bedframe. Goten hadn’t told him that Vegeta would be in this little ‘meeting.’ “This had better not be about Trunks’s dating life.”

“Well.” Goten said, frowning. “No… not really…”

Goten saw Vegeta give Goten a little look.

“Well, what is it, Goten? I can’t imagine anything you would want to talk to me and _Krillin_ about,” Vegeta said, scoffing slightly.

Goten hesitated for a millisecond, blushing and looking uncomfortable.

“Vegeta… do you…. do you think that Shawn smells a bit like a Saiyan? Also a little human, but a _little_ …Saiyan-ish?”

Vegeta sat up.

Krillin stared at Goten. This was a joke, he told himself. A stupid joke.

“I… I don’t think I really thought Saiyans smelled differently than humans,” Vegeta said slowly. “You think they smell different?”

“Oh, come on, she _can’t_ be a Saiyan…” Krillin said, exasperatedly.

“Kind of… like metal. Iron-y. You really don’t smell the difference?”

“Hmmm,” Vegeta said, thoughtfully. They were ignoring him. Krillin was used to that. People ignored him a lot. “And what do you half-breeds smell like to you?”

“Just normal. Well, normal for me, I guess. But I think humans smell more human-y and you and Dad smell more… Saiyan-y. But… I think Trunks and me and the rest of us smell… normal. A little less like a human and less like a Saiyan, but a little bit of both.”

“And that’s what Shawn smells like to you?” Vegeta said, frowning. “A bit of both? I can’t believe that I, a _full-blooded_ Saiyan couldn’t pick up on this…”

“Not everyone we meet is somehow connected to the Saiyan race!” Krillin said, irritably clenching his fists together. “This is because we haven’t fought some highfalutin alien in a while. You Saiyans get so antsy…”

“I _did_ think she looks a bit like a feminine version of Raditz…” Vegeta mulled, still ignoring Krillin.

Krillin burst out laughing.

“Oh, _come on._ Raditz died _years_ before she was conceived. She’s what, Trunks’s age? Late twenties?”

“Can you look that up, Krillin?” Goten asked. “Through some… police records website, or something?”

“What?” Krillin asked, looking aghast.

“Her… birth certificate, or whatever.”

“I don’t even know her last name…”

“Rose,” Goten said. “I looked it up.”

“You are both paranoid,” Krillin grumbled, taking out his phone. "Besides, it's not like it will say "Saiyan" for her parent..."

"No, it will say 'Unknown'," Goten said patiently. "That's what all of ours says for the Father field. You know. Gohan and me, and Trunks and Bra."

"Your birth certificate says that your father is an unknown man?" Vegeta said, sounding surprised. "And Chi-Chi is okay with that? Wait... and _my children_ also have birth certificates that say they don't know who their father is?"

Goten ignored Vegeta. He was brave like that, Krillin thought miserably. He could ignore Vegeta.

“Why does it matter if she's a Saiyan... or a half-Saiyan, or whatever?” Krillin asked, rolling his eyes.

Vegeta sighed.

“She is suddenly… involved in a lot of our business. It’s odd. She becomes a friend of that machine you call a wife, she gets an invite here, she’s involved with the Company…”

“What?” Krillin asked, surprised. “She’s connected with Capsule Corp? How so?”

“She works for a… er… a syndicate that tries to do… something… with weaklings.” Vegeta said, faltering slightly.

“A union,” Goten corrected. “A labor union. For scientists. They’re trying to unionize at Capsule Corp.”

“Oh.” Krillin said, turning his smartphone over and over in his hands. “OK, that is a little weird – but what are you thinking?”

“Well, she’s weak…” Vegeta started.

“Or she’s hiding her power level…” Goten interjected.

“I doubt it,” Vegeta scoffed. “She seems _very_ weak…”

“Why does that matter?” Krillin said, frowning.

“She could be a… scout. A spy. From another group of Saiyan and half-Saiyan survivors. A eunuch, maybe.”

Krillin glanced at Goten, who looked as puzzled as he felt.

“A _eunuch_?” Krillin asked. “I don’t think she has a…”

“A… a non-fighter,” Vegeta said, rolling his eyes. “We called them eunuchs. They weren’t allowed to breed.”

“…huh,” Goten said, staring at Vegeta with a kind of fascinated horror on his face.

“ _Why_ would a hypothetical Saiyan… scout… come here?” Krillin asked, feeling like he wouldn’t like the answer.

“I dunno, to kill us? To be the last surviving Saiyans?” Vegeta asked, shrugging.

“Why… why would this hypothetical – again, let me repeat myself, _hypothetical_ group of Saiyan and Saiyan descended people want to murder us?”

Goten and Vegeta stared at him for a few seconds, unblinking.

“Because… well… Saiyans,” Goten said, eventually.

“Yeah, we fuck stuff up,” Vegeta said, tapping his fingers on the wall behind his head impatiently. “It’s what we do.”

Krillin had to admit that was true.

Groaning, he punched in Shawn’s information into his phone.

“Well, she was born years after Raditz died, to what appear to be perfectly normal human parents...” Krillin said, rolling his eyes and handing the phone to Vegeta.

“What’s this? An ad for shoes?”

“It’s probably a pop-up ad,” Krillin said, sighing. “18 uses my phone to shop sometimes, because it’s faster than her phone…”

“But _I_ don’t need shoes!” Vegeta exclaimed, looking at the phone like it was a dead rat.

“Just close the ad, Vegeta…” Goten said, sighing.

“Well, how do you close it? God, these shoes are really pointy, what are they, weapons?”

“Just hit that little ‘x’ on the right hand side, there…” Goten said, looking over Vegeta’s shoulder.

“What’s… what’s happening? Did I miss? I missed! That ‘x’ is so tiny! Why do they make it so tiny! This infernal phone! Now it’s taking me to a website with _more_ shoes…” Vegeta raged.

“Oh, just give it to me,” Goten grumbled, grabbing the phone and apparently closing all shoe-related content. “This….looks right,” Goten said, eventually shrugging. “She’s 28. Wasn’t born in a hospital, though…”

“Lots of people are born at home,” Krillin said, grabbing the phone back. “And it sounds like she travelled around with that freak show a lot. She was probably birthed by a bunch of carnies. You guys are being paranoid. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to make sure my daughter’s cake is ready to be cut.”

“Ugh,” Vegeta said, sounding disgusted with him.

“Oh, _shut up,_ Vegeta,” Krillin grumbled, leaving the cabin.

They were crazy. Some people probably just smelled more… what had Goten said it was that Saiyans smelled like?... _metallic_ than other humans.

Since when had Saiyans had such an amazing sense of smell, anyway?

It was all this pent-up energy… they needed to be fighting something in order to be happy. Maybe he should organize a tournament, just for them. Ask Bulma to put up some ridiculously expensive prize.

Still, _something_ about the conversation in the cabin had…unsettled Krillin. If only very slightly. And so, after the cake cutting, he wandered over to where Shawn was sitting with 18.

“You seem to be handling yourself well for a party with aliens in attendance,” Krillin said conversationally, hoping he sounded casual, and nodding at Piccolo. “Some humans freak out when they see him.”

“Oh,” Shawn said, wrinkling her nose. “Well, I guess people have always whispered that there are associations with aliens and Capsule Corp… So when I found out it was their boat…”

“That there is,” Krillin agreed, nodding and taking a sip of his champagne. “You’re human, though. Right?”

Shawn stared at him, looking confused.

“I… yes? I... hope so, anyway?” she asked, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t have a tail?” Krillin pressed, smiling slightly. She looked so confused by the conversation – confused and vaguely affronted – there was no way she was anything _but_ human.

Shawn stared at him, blinking. 18 crossed her arms and glared at him. He was probably going to get it from her when they got home, she was sensitive about how the few friends she had were treated…

“A _tail_?” Shawn nodded at Piccolo, laughing slightly. “You mean like… a green one, like that…man?”

“No, like a monkey’s tail,” Krillin continued, his grin getting larger. Stupid Goten and Vegeta. They were so… ridiculous.

“No… I can’t say I do,” Shawn said, frowning. “Do I… do I _look_ like I have a tail?”

“Not at all,” Krillin said, patting her on the head. “Glad to hear it.”

There, Krillin thought, satisfied. Vegeta and Goten are just paranoid.

\--

“Bye, 18! Bye, Marron and Krillin!” Shawn waved to the three in their car. “Thanks for the ride home… it was a great party, really…”

“You don’t live in a very good area,” 18 said, wrinkling her nose at her. “Is it safe?”

“Safe enough,” Shawn laughed. “It’s fine.”

Please let me walk away, she worried to herself. Just let me get into my apartment, then drive away... Don't stop, and ask me again if I'm... human.

She unlocked the door of the small studio apartment and walked in stared blankly around her. She had liked her shitty little apartment. She had liked working at the union.

Goddammit.

She wondered if people were watching her now.

Maybe it was pointless? She was already found out, they were closing in.

Hmm.

Well.

If he hadn’t said the quip about the tail, maybe she could have discounted it as a stupid joke. Hah hah, you are so strange and weird, aren't you an.... alien?!?! And the aliens obviously there - the green man - hadn't _looked_ like anything to be worried about. No tails, for example.

But then Krillin had gone and had mentioned a tail… And asked if _she_ had one.

This hadn’t happened to her mother.

It wasn’t fair.

Well, life’s not fair, I guess, she told herself glumly, and got on her hands and knees a pulled out a small black suitcase from beneath her bed. She had always thought her mother had been a little paranoid, saying that she should always have a bag ready to go. But here she was.

Ugh.

She opened the bag and checked that everything was in there… a change of clothes, some protein bars, her pistol, some bullets, an old fake ID.

She took out the ID and looked at it. Oh. It was old. It had expired. Well. "Expired." It _appeared_ as through it had expired, anyway. 

Fuck.

Well… she could go to a college town. College kids usually knew how to get fake IDs…

She threw her performance swords in the bag. She wondered where she should keep the gun. It looked stupid there, clattering around with her swords. She had never used it. Her father had insisted.

“It’s probably not worth it,” her mother had said, sighing. “Running and hiding is probably more effective than shooting them.”

Still, she _had_ the thing…

She grabbed at the gun and turned it over in her hands for a few seconds before returning it into the bag. She would probably just hurt herself if she put it somewhere more accessible.

She pulled out her phone and stared at it for a few seconds. She couldn’t bring it with her. Hmm. She should just leave, just vanish. No trace. No explanations.

Her mind flashed back towards Trunks Briefs, how startled he had looked when she had thrown that USB drive at him….

She shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t.

But a small part of her rebelled, and she did. So she sent a few emails.

-

TO: [Greg@SAEUnited.com](mailto:Greg@SAEUnited.com)

FROM: [Shawn@SAEUnited.com](mailto:Shawn@SAEUnited.com)

Re: Resignation

 

Dear Greg,

A family issue has come up and I need to resign immediately from my position at Scientists and Educators United.

I am immediately moving out of the area; you may dispose of all my incidentals at my desk.

Trunks Briefs and Bulma Briefs both have a copy of the reorganization plan we talked about re: Capsule Corp. They will likely be very interested in talking with you about it, they dislike the Board. They will, however, probably be against unionization (as they are still mgmt.).

I strongly recommend encouraging them to fire all of the scientists and engineers in the Scientific Innovation division (it looks like they can still do that) and tell them to rehire them back under the correct division (R&D). Make it sound like something they can do quickly in an afternoon and that their employees will be ecstatic over. But tell all employees that they shouldn’t accept a new offer without a provision for unionization and a solution to the patent drama. Also, maybe a substantial pay raise. Fuck the Briefs, Fuck the Board.

I think most of the engineers are on our side about this – they are pretty annoyed re: the patent situation. Some of the electrical engineers are worried about a union causing their pay going down because they are higher paid than the mathematicians, etc.

Silas Jeerus, the mathematician, is a good contact. He’s very pro-union and has lots of friends at the company.

In solidarity,

Shawn

\--

To: [LacyFlames@gmail.com](mailto:LacyFlames@gmail.com)

From: [ShawnRose@fastmail.com](mailto:ShawnRose@fastmail.com)

Re: Performing

Lacy!

I know that I told you I wanted to get back into performing, but some family issues have come up. I’m sorry. I hope you and that new juggler work out.

Best,

Shawn

PS – I saw Yamcha today. I haven’t seen him in years – does he still come around the club? I also had the displeasure of meeting his _daughter,_ who is just a little younger than us.

\--

To: [Info@84management.com](mailto:Info@84management.com)

From: [Shawn@SAEUnited.com](mailto:Shawn@SAEUnited.com)

Re: Moving Out

 

I am vacating my premises. You will receive no more rent moneys from me. The key is left inside the apartment. Do not attempt to contact me.

 

Shawn Rose

\--

And Shawn grabbed her coat, grabbed her suitcase, and left her little studio apartment, locking her key inside.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I originally starting mapping out this story, I did not have this plotline with Shawn being ~~suspicious~~. If you hate it and think it makes Shawn too much of a Mary Sue, fear not! It won't last forever. And she won't be all that impressive in the end. Don't worry, this won't be some "chosen one" OC.
> 
> But there are elements of this plotline I do really like, and this little foray helps explain some things so bear with me.


	12. The Sword Had Been Doing The Heavy Lifting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 18 and Goku look for Shawn.
> 
> They find her.
> 
> Rendezvous at the Lookout!

It was three days later when Vegeta heard that Shawn had resigned from her job and abruptly moved out of the area.

“She’s gone, apparently,” The Boy was irritably telling the Woman. “I went over there today to talk to her and had to talk to this person called ‘Greg’ instead. Anyway, he thinks we should fire everyone and then re-hire them…”

“Who’s gone?” Vegeta barked.

“That Shawn person,” Trunks grumbled. “She just picked up and left. Moved away. Left all her stuff in her apartment and her office, too, apparently.”

“Really?” Vegeta asked suspiciously. “When?”

“I don’t know. She was at the party Saturday. That was, what, three days ago?”

“Huh,” Vegeta said, frowning.

“Why do you care?” the Boy mumbled irritably.

“Is it because Trunks had a crush on her?” Bra asked, a grin spreading across her small face. “Is that why you care? You wanted them to get together?”

“I did not have a _crush_ on her,” the Boy growled.

“Did too,” the Girl said, flicking a piece of salmon at the Boy's head.

“Bra! No throwing food at the table!” the Woman snapped.

“I didn’t like her,” the Boy insisted. 

“She wasn’t very cute, Bra” the Woman agreed, taking a sip of her wine.

“I need to … make a phone call,” Vegeta said, standing up.

His family stared at him.

“What?” he demanded.

“You don’t know how to use the phone by yourself,” the Girl alleged. Ridiculously. Vegeta knew how to use a phone.

“I’m a Saiyan Prince, I know how to use basic Earthling technology!” Vegeta snapped, heading off to his bedroom. He picked up the small cell phone and spent some time trying to unlock it. He knew the password was 1111, but he kept on accidentally hitting the “2” for some reason. Plus the screen wasn’t formulated to work with his gloves… Finally he managed it.

After several more minutes of intense concentration, he was able to call Krillin’s domicile. The machine picked up.

“Hello?” she asked.

“I need to talk to Krillin,” Vegeta barked into the phone.

“…Vegeta?”

“Why do you care?” Vegeta demanded.

The machine sighed, and handed the phone over to Krillin.

“Hello?” Krillin asked suspiciously. Vegeta could hear Krillin’s offspring in the background, talking about boys or something.

“Did you know Shawn disappeared? She moved away, or something.”

“What?” Krillin asked, sounding surprised. “Really?”

“You didn’t say anything to her at the party, did you?”

There was a long pause.

Vegeta growled.

“Krillin…”

“I asked her if she was a human or an alien. And... um. If she had a tail.” Krillin said eventually.

“Krillin!”

“But she said no!” Krillin babbled. "And I believed her."

“Oho, great, she said no!” Vegeta crowed. “Well, in that case, everything’s _fine_! I’m sure she’s just immediately left everything for no reason! I’m _sure_ she’s not regrouping with… with whatever other underground Saiyan group she’s working with…”

“Are you talking about Shawn?” Oh great, Vegeta thought, as he heard that… that _machine’s_ voice through the other side of the line.

Krillin mumbled something incoherent, and Vegeta heard fumbling on the other side of the line.

“Vegeta?”

Oh, great, now she was on the line… _talking_ to him.

“Ugh,” Vegeta said into the phone. “I called Krillin. If I wanted to talk to a washing machine, I’d go to the laundromat.”

“Vegeta!” 18 snapped. She sounded angry.

Vegeta recounted the story – all of it. How Goten thought Shawn “smelled” funny, how she had apparently disappeared. Well. All right, it was less of a story than a series of interrelated facts, but he recounted them nevertheless.

There was a long pause on the other side of the line.

“Krillin?” Vegeta barked into the phone. “I think you have to reboot your wife. Try turning her off and on again.”

“I’m still here, you absolute asshole,” the machine snapped. “I’m going to go look for her. With Goku.”

“With Kakarot?” Vegeta asked, too surprised to be jealous of Kakarot’s inclusion. “Why?”

“So when we find her, we can instantly transmit somewhere safe. The Lookout, probably. If she _is_ with other Saiyans, they won’t be able to follow right away.”

Vegeta had to admit he was impressed. That was pretty smart. Separate the eunuch from the rest of them.

“Did you just get a software update?” he asked. “That was clever, for a washing mach--”

The phone beeped at him. He pulled it away from his ear, and saw that 18 had hung up on him.

“That goddamned washing machine,” he snarled, tossing the cell phone down.

Huh.

Still.

Maybe they would get to fight someone soon.

That would be nice.

Things were looking up.

\--

A week later, Goku instantly transmitted into the kitchen where Trunks and his family were eating dinner.

“Goku!” Bulma said, surprised. “What… what are you doing here? Do you… want some dinner?”

“I do, - thanks, Bulma! - but I should be getting back to the Lookout! Besides, I just ate at Chi-Chi’s.” Goku said, happily.

Chi-Chi’s, noted Trunks. Not ‘I ate dinner at Home,’ but ‘I ate dinner at Chi-Chi’s.’ Kakarot was so… strange, sometimes.

“I’m just here to see if Vegeta and Trunks wants to come with me,” Goku continued.

“To the Lookout?” Trunks asked, suspiciously. “Why?”

“Oh. We found Shawn! 18 and me. They’re at the Lookout.”

“You ‘found’ Shawn?” Trunks repeated levelly, praying that he didn’t start to blush. That would be... irritating. “What does that mean?”

“We were looking for her!” Goku continued. “Because Vegeta and Goten think she’s a Saiyan sent here as a scout to kill us all!”

Trunks stared blankly at Goku, horrified.

He wasn’t the only one. A long pause permeated through the kitchen.

Trunks’s mother was the first to break the silence, putting her head in her hands and groaning.

“You stupid men,” she moaned into her hands. “You stupid _Saiyan_ men! She’s not a Saiyan, she’s just a flighty human! And you took her to the _Lookout_ for some reason?”

“Oh, shut up, Woman!” Vegeta said, standing up, and Trunks recognized that little gleam in his eyes. He thinks we’re going to fight someone soon, Trunks thought glumly. “Let’s go, Goku.”

“Does Trunks want to come?” Goku asked, nodding at Trunks.

“Why would Trunks want to come?” Bulma demanded, rubbing his temples. “Why would he want to come to such a stupid, _stupid_ endeavor?”

“I dunno,” Goku shrugged. “Goten said he thinks that Trunks has a crush on Shawn though. So I guess... that's why.”

Trunks felt his cheeks getting warmer.

“He can come,” Vegeta said, nodding at Trunks and placing a hand on Goku’s shoulder.

“I want to come!” Bra exclaimed, also standing up.

“No,” Vegeta said, quickly grabbing onto a piece of Trunks’s shirt. “Go now, Kakarot! Now!”

 Goku transmitted, Bra still whining behind them.

\--

The Lookout looked like… well, the Lookout. It never changed much. The only person standing on the tiled floor was Dende, looking irritated with his little arms crossed.

A few seconds after Goku, Vegeta, and Trunks appeared, 18 and Krillin softly landed on the Lookout behind them.

“Where’s Shawn?” Krillin asked, panting as he ran up to them.

“I don’t know, we just got here,” Vegeta snapped. He turned to Dende. “Where is she?”

“You _just_ got here?” Krillin interjected, sounding confused. “But Goku left to get you and Goten like an hour ago… _We_ just got here, and we flew…”

“Well, I had to eat dinner first,” Goku explained.

“You stopped to _eat dinner_?” Krillin asked, aghast. “And, hey… where’s Goten?”

Goku gasped.

“I forgot to bring Goten!”

He disappeared.

Dende audibly sighed, sounding disgusted with them all.

Goku reappeared a second later, hanging onto an excited-looking Goten.

Trunks shifted from foot to food uneasily when all this was happening. He looked around him. Shawn was here, somewhere. Apparently. Not that he cared. No. Well. If she was a Saiyan… scout, of some kind, he _guess_ he cared but…

It’s not like it meant anything, the way he had blushed when he thought of her with that sword down her throat. She had even told him, hadn’t she, that the sword had “done the heavy lifting”?

And it didn’t matter that his thoughts started to drift off towards her when he was in the shower or trying to fall asleep, and it _certainly_ didn’t matter that he thought of her sometimes when he… relieved himself of… tension.

The first time, the night after that party on the boat, he had wondered what it would be like to go down on her while she had a sword down her throat. She wouldn’t be able to move much. No trembling, he would warn her throatily, as he flicked at her with his tongue. Oh, don’t you dare move too much, he would murmur, don’t shudder, be perfectly still… you have to, you know... you don’t want to injure yourself, do you… Then he had imagined him ripping the sword out of her mouth and pushing her mouth onto him, her gagging on his girth slightly, but nevertheless enjoying it _very_ much… So much had come out of him that time he had blushed on behalf of the poor sock he had used to clean up. He had felt like a teenager again, simultaneously embarrassed and amazed at his body’s ability to feel things so intensely.

Not that any of that mattered. The sword had been doing the heavy lifting.

Dende cleared his throat.

“Do you remember that time I called you all a cavalcade of fuck-ups?” Dende asked quietly.

“No!” Goku exclaimed, smiling. “When did you say that?”

“It was after you brought me here because you didn’t have Dragon Balls,” Dende continued tightly.

“Oh. I think I do remember that,” Goku agreed amiably. “So… where’s Shawn?”

“You continue to be a cavalcade of fuck-ups,” Dende continued. “The only one of you with any sense at all is Gohan, whom, I notice, is not even here. I imagine you didn't even talk to him before you descended into this well of idiocy...”

“She’s not a Saiyan, then?” Vegeta demanded. “In that case, where _is_ she?”

“Napping.” Dende said. “She was hungry, tired, confused, and scared. She ate about forty pork buns and then fell asleep.”

“So she _is_ a Saiyan!” Goku exclaimed. “No human could eat _that_ many pork buns!”

“I hate you all so, so much,” Dende said, heavily.

“Listen, Green Man,” Vegeta said, stepping forward. “Is she a Scout? If you won’t tell us, I’ll find her and muscle it out of her…”

“Just look,” Dende said, sighing and tapping his staff on the ground. A large white screen unfolded in front of him. “I learned how to read minds and project memories on this screen,” Dende continued conversationally. “So I can show you.”

“Where did you learn how to do that?” Vegeta demanded.

“Around.” Dende said flatly. “Now, just, watch…”


	13. Abuse Is More Believable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback!

An image of a hospital room appeared on the screen.

On the bed was a sickly-looking man with the longest nose Trunks had ever seen in his life. He wondered if it could be real.

The door swung open and a slightly-younger-looking Shawn walked in, holding a vase full of roses.

She was wearing black leggings and a red jacket over a slightly torn purple tee-shirt. She looked… good, Trunks thought. Kind of. For her. She was in better shape than she had been last time Trunks saw her, her breasts looked a bit smaller and higher up on her chest, her stomach a bit thinner.

“Hi, Dad,” Younger-Shawn said, sighing and sitting down in a chair next to the man. Ah, thought Trunks, remembering. Right. Her father had a long nose. "The Longest Nose In The World" or something like that... Well… _he_ certainly doesn’t look like a Saiyan…

“Hello, my dear…” the man said, his voice sounding like gravel. “Oh, look, roses…”

“Yep,” Shawn said, setting them down on the little bedside table and sitting down on the small chair to the man’s right.

They sat in silence for what seemed like a long time, Shawn reaching out and holding the man’s hand.

“How are things with that boy? Cliff, was it?”

“He died,” Shawn said dully. “Car accident.”

“What?” the man asked, sitting up slightly. “When?”

“A week ago.” Shawn said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “It was in that big pileup on Route 31.”

“Oh my God, I heard about that on the news… Are… are you ok?”

“Yes.” Shawn said flatly. “He was pretty mean to me in the end. I’m glad he’s dead.”

The man stared at Shawn for a few minutes, horrified.

“Shawn…” he said, sounding like he was prompting her (for what, Trunks wondered. To open up and talk more? To apologize for being callous? To admit she had been kidding?). “Come on…”

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Shawn said, playing with a piece of her hair. Trunks wondered who the dead boy was and if he had gotten to lose his hands in Shawn’s hair, gotten to bury his head in it and inhale its scent…

“I actually wanted to talk about something else,” Shawn said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat again. “It’s been about a year since Ma died…”

“Yes,” the man said, sighing.

“And… well. The fire-eater who traveled with the Company for a while wants to settle down. There’s a strip club in the city that’s interested in hiring circus acts. She wants to live in one place for a while. She says she’s tired of traveling. She’d probably have to get another part-time job, too, but… it could work.”

The man stared at Shawn for a few minutes, and then stared at his hands.

“And…” Shawn said, faltering a bit. “I’m a bit tired of traveling, too. I think. I mean. I’ve never done anything else, but it might be nice to… have an apartment. Have a favorite coffee shop to go to. Have… friends. You know. That sort of thing. Besides... I don't know. Everything with starting to... date Cliff, and then him dying... I don't know. The Company reminds me of him.”

The man continued to look at his hands.

“Can we… can we just….” Shawn said, and then buried her face in her hands. When she raised her face again, she was blinking furiously. “Let’s just... review the facts, ok? There’s no… no cameras in here?”

“There probably are,” the man said, sighing. “But I doubt they record everything we say. Go ahead.”

“OK,” Shawn said, wiggling in her chair. She looked awkward, like she didn’t know how to start.

“Your grandmother,” the man said heavily, starting for her, “your mother’s mother…”

“Was insane.” Shawn said flatly.

The man sighed deeply.

“She was _unwell,_ Shawn,” he said. “And… well. I still believe her. What she said.”

“She said she was visited by some alien.”

“Yes.” The man continued.

“With a tail.”

“Yes.”

“Like a monkey’s tail. And he was strong, and frightening. And impregnated Grandma. And told her some story about how he would kill her and kill the baby if she had it.”

“…Yes.”

“That never made sense to me. How did he know she was pregnant? Didn’t he leave right away? I thought it was all a mistake that he even got to Earth, anyway – some story about a ship crashing…”

“I think it’s possible he came back a few months later.” The man said heavily. “And saw your grandmother again.”

This surprised Shawn.

“Really,” she said. “You never said. Ma never said.”

“Your mother didn’t like to hear about that… theory. She always operated under the assumption that the… man…”

“…Grandpa,” Shawn suggested.

“OK.” The man agreed. “Your grandpa. That he just told her something like she had better _not_ be pregnant or he would kill her and the baby. The idea he came back when she was pregnant frightened your mother. It felt safer to her if he only was around once. But she had some extremely vivid story about him punching her stomach when she was visibly pregnant, so…”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well…” Shawn said haltingly. “Maybe we shouldn’t take that _too_ seriously. She _also_ , at times, claimed that… Grandpa… the alien… was a stalk of asparagus.”

“I think that was his name,” the man said, sighing again. “Your mother also didn’t like that when I suggested that.”

“His _name_?” Shawn said, aghast. “ _Really_?”

“Yes. Some word that sounded like asparagus. I don’t know. But… well, your mother… preferred to think that her mother was… farther gone than she was. It made her feel better, somehow. But your grandmother _did_ have some… lucid moments, near the end. I would visit her at the hospital sometimes to try and find out more about… your grandfather. And… I’m not sure. I think she was trying to say it was his name, not that she thought he was a literal asparagus.”

“Oh,” Shawn said, frowning. “Huh.”

“Yeah,” the man agreed. “Strange name.”

“Well, in any event,” Shawn said, frowning. “This… alien claimed he would come back and kill Grandma, and Ma, if Grandma allowed Ma to be born.”

“Yes.”

“And Ma thought the whole story was bullshit, because – let me reiterate – Grandma was nuts. Ma thought it was a way to explain the strange birthmark Ma had on her back.”

“Well…” the man said.

“Well, what she thought was a birthmark at the time. A hole. Whatever.”

“OK,” the man agreed.

“Ma ran away to escape her crazy-mother, joined the circus-slash-freak-show, met you, fell in love, got pregnant, went into labor early and birthed me on the side of the road…”

“No, it was in the van,” the man said solemnly. “She exaggerated.”

“Anyway.” Shawn continued. “I came out with a tail.”

The man nodded solemnly.

“Like a monkey’s tail,” he said, nodding.

“So you decided… that probably it was all true. The alien story. And… the threat. And so you cut off the tail, and then, when I was 13, burned the little hole to look like a bad burn instead of a… a… an alien tail-hole.”

The man nodded, and started to frown.

“You’re not…” the man said, and then stopped. He shut his eyes and sighed. “Are you doubting whether you had a tail? Whether you are all-human or not?”

“No, no,” Shawn said, rolling her eyes. “I think it’s probably true. I think I am a quarter… alien. Non-human. It explains why I seem to age a little slower, heal a bit faster, need to eat so much, and am… you know. Stronger.”

The man nodded.

“I’m glad.” The man said. “I realized when you were about 16 we had no proof of the… the tail. And that you might eventually suspect that we were just abusive parents. Who liked… _burning_ their child.”

“Nah,” Shawn said, a small smile creeping over her face. “I know how much you hated doing that. You would cry.”

“The first time your mother made pork after we burned you I vomited, right there at the table,” the man said, smiling and looking sad at the same time.

“I remember. I was there, if you remember,” Shawn said, also smiling. “Ma called you weak.”

“She _screamed_ at me that I was weak,” he said, chuckling. “She was… a strong woman.”

“Yes.”

“You were strong, too, Shawn,” the man continued. “You always handled the pain so well. Even though we had to do it more than once. The scar would heal over and fade so quickly. You heal fast.”

“That’s true, I _am_ incredible,” Shawn said, smiling slightly. “But… the point I’m trying to make is that… well… No alien has ever _come_ back looking for us, right?”

“No,” the man agreed nodding.

“It’s possible that--”

“Oh, anything’s possible,” the man said, rolling his eyes. “He could have died. He could have just forgotten about it. He could have _never_ intended to come back and just wanted your grandmother to get an abortion. Other people of his… race, or species or whatever, might not care about half-human half-aliens at all. Maybe he was just an asshole. Maybe there are _other_ aliens with tails that would be _pleased_ to meet you. Want to teach you… their… language, or whatever.”

“Right,” Shawn said, sounding surprised. “I… thought it would take you more to admit that.”

The man nodded and spent some time looking out the window.

“Your mother never wanted to hear about those theories,” he said eventually. “She _only_ wanted to hear that he was coming, or _they_ were coming, and that we had to be careful.

“Whatever he was,” he continued. “He _really_ frightened your grandmother. And she really, _really,_ frightened your mother. Terrified. When she realized the stories were probably true, when she saw you and that… tail she… wailed. Screamed. Rocked you back and forth, and screamed. She wanted to kill you, and then kill herself.”

“Jesus, Pop.” Shawn said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, she calmed down, eventually. I had to slap her, which I don’t mind telling you, hurt my hand, a lot. But… as you know, we decided to keep moving around, keep working the show,” the man continued. “We thought we might settle down eventually, so you could go to school but… in the end, we thought keeping you on the move would be safer. And so, we tried to obscure the little hole on your back, and keep money around, and keep fake IDs…”

“Yes.” Shawn said. “And the gun.”

“Yes,” the man agreed. “And the gun.”

He smiled at Shawn, a sad little smile that made Trunks’s insides clench together. He looked at Shawn like he loved her so, so much. He wondered if his father had ever, ever, looked at him like that.

The man grabbed Shawn’s hand and squeezed it.

“We all die,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “I’m dying now. Your mother’s already dead. You could die crossing the street – you could get hit by a car.” He smiled at her. “You want to live in one place for a while? Fine. But do me a favor? Keep money, keep a fake ID, keep the gun. If anyone comes sniffing around asking about your heritage, you know—“

“Asking if I have a tail,” Shawn said, grinning slightly.

“Right. Just… run. Try and get away. Disappear.”

“OK,” Shawn agreed.

“Promise?” The man said, squeezing her hand. “Don’t bank on the idea that there are really nice aliens out there who want to meet you. That your grandfather was an outlier. Just… run. It’s safer.”

“OK,” Shawn said. “I will.”

“You will be stripping at this club?”

“No.”

“Good. Because, you know… the scar on your back…”

“Hah,” Shawn said, laughing slightly. “That’s why you care? Very paternal of you.”

“Well… it does look like a burn now, pretty much,” the man said, sighing. “Still looks rough though. Suspicious. What’s your story about it?”

“I fell into a campfire when we were camping when I was eight,” Shawn said, surprised. “That’s been the story for years. We practiced and practiced.”

“Yeah…” the man said, nodding. “You know, once I’m gone…”

“Pop, don’t say that…”

“It might be more believable if you say your parents _did_ abuse you. Burned you when you misbehaved, or something.”

Shawn stared at her father, horrified.

“Dad!” she gasped. “I don’t want to tell people that…”

“Oh, who cares,” the man said irritably. “We’ll both be dead. Besides, I think it’s pretty obvious that you’ve been burned their multiple times, what are you going to say? That you fell into _multiple_ campfires?”

“No, but we had a story about juggling flaming torches…”

The man made a face.

“Abuse is more believable.”

The scene shifted to a dark alleyway. Shawn was on her knees, crying.

18 was in front of her.

“I really, _really, really,_ would prefer not to die,” Shawn was babbling. Trunks felt embarrassed for her. “Please. Please.”

“Who _are_ you?” 18 spat, her voice as cold as ice. “I _enjoyed_ talking to you, Shawn.”

“I… enjoyed talking to you too,” Shawn babbled, wiping some tears and mud away from her cheek. “Really.”

18 scoffed, and looked away. She was like a statue. Cold. Unfeeling.

“Just… take her to the Lookout, Goku,” she muttered, as an apprehensive-looking Goku patted Shawn on the shoulder.

“It will be OK,” Goku muttered to Shawn and squeezing her shoulder. “We probably won’t kill you!”

The screen rolled up and disappeared with a little pop.

Dende stared at them all, annoyed.

“She is part-Saiyan, then,” Vegeta said, rolling his eyes. “Quarter. Whatever. We were _right_. It's not like we told her to go running off.”

“She’s not a threat!” Dende snapped. “You _terrified_ her! She quit her job, left her apartment, was living in a car for the week…”

“Are we supposed to feel bad about _terrifying_ people now?” Vegeta scoffed. "Her parents sound _weak_ , anyway, who tells someone to run instead of fighting--"

“Why do you like her so much, Dende?” Goten interrupted, frowning slightly. “You usually don’t like people so much.”

“I like people fine,” Dende snapped. “She’s… nice. Lonely. Has more common sense than all of you combined.”

“ _Where_ is she?” 18 snapped.

“She’s over there,” Dende said, sighing, nodding behind him. “You can go wake her. But _be nice_ when you bring her here…”

“You should come too, Trunks,” 18 said, striding in the direction Dende had nodded towards. “I… scared her last time I saw her.”

“Yeah, I saw,” Trunks muttered, wondering why 18 had specified that _he_ should go with her. Well. He supposed that he had interacted with her the most after 18. He willed himself not to blush. Inhale. Exhale. No blushing.


	14. Have you... stumbled into... feminism?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where is Shawn going to... go now?
> 
> Vegeta yells a lot.

18 wasn’t sure, exactly, why she had told Trunks to come with her to retrieve Shawn. She remembered that Shawn had initially found Trunks attractive, out of her league, in that café where they had complained about their appearances. It felt like years ago.

And she had caught her looking at him impassively at the party, across the boat. And she had teased him onstage.

Maybe seeing him, with his ridiculous purple hair and his quiet eyes would help her.

It’s not like 18 felt guilty for yelling at Shawn so much in that dark alleyway. Certainly not. She… she had _lied_ to her, basically. She hadn’t mentioned being non-human to her, hadn’t mentioned being heavily scarred…

If this was a movie, 18 thought as they walked into the small room where Shawn was sleeping, Shawn would look peaceful, serene and beautiful.

But this wasn’t a movie, or a book, or a television.

And Shawn was spread out, laying on her stomach on a small mattress, and snoring loudly. She looked… like a mess. She was surrounded by plates. Some of them still had crumbs on them.

Jesus, 18 thought. She has no self-respect.

She heard Trunks gasp softly, and she looked at him, questioning. Sure, Shawn looked ridiculous, but not _that_ ridiculous.

Trunks’s eyes traveled down to the bottom of her shirt, which was rising up slightly as Shawn’s hands were extended above her head.

Oh.

She could see part of the scar.

It _did_ look… rough, as Shawn’s father had said in that memory. Red, almost purple, and bumpy. It looked... painful.

“Shawn,” 18 said at last, kicking her slightly with her foot.

Trunks sat down on the ground next to her.

“Let’s sit with her for a while,” he muttered to 18, brushing a stray piece of hair out of his eyes. “Try to explain some things.”

“Mmm,” Shawn groaned, putting her hands in her hair and tugging on it. It looked painful.

“Stop that,” 18 commanded. “Sit up. We aren’t going to hurt you.”

“Ugh,” Shawn said, rolling over and sitting up, tucking her legs in front of her.

She had snot running down her face, and she had remnants of mascara running down her face.

“Trunks,” she said, wiping some of the snot away with the back of her hand. “18.”

18 realized maybe bringing Trunks along wasn’t a good idea. She looked… ridiculous.

“Hi,” Trunks said, haltingly.

“You brought… a sword,” Shawn said dully, nodding towards the sword Trunks wore over his shoulder. He wasn’t as good with it as his future counterpart had been, but was still determined to try. 18 thought that was a little weird. It wasn’t like she was determined to kill most of the human population of the Earth just because she had done so in another timeline.

“…Yeah,” Trunks said. “We. Uh. Thought you might be a threat.”

“Huh,” Shawn said dully. “Can I see it?”

“Uh,” Trunks said, “Sure.”

He handed her the sword and she spent some time looking it over. Shawn looked… deflated. Broken.

“It’s nice,” she said quietly, handing it back to him. “So. Did Dende tell you…?”

“Yes,” 18 said. “About your grandfather.”

“And you two are… like him? Aliens?”

Oh.

“Um,” Trunks said, giving 18 a little look. “Not exactly. My father is. Goku is.”

“You’re half?” Shawn asked, sounding surprised.

“Yes.”

“And you?” Shawn asked, nodding towards 18. 18 would have blushed had she been the kind of person… android… who blushed.

“I’m… something else. An android.”

“Cyborg,” Trunks corrected.

“Oh,” Shawn said, nodding. “The metal plates.”

“Yes,” 18 agreed, ignoring the fact that Trunks was giving her a questioning look.

“So…” Shawn started. “You’re not going to kill me?”

“No,” Trunks said, and 18 was startled by how… _tender_ his voice sounded. When on earth had he learned to talk like that? Not Vegeta, certainly. And Bulma wasn’t exactly tender either.

“Hmm,” Shawn said, giving Trunks a little frown. She hadn’t liked that tender voice either. “So what’s the deal with your species? And my grandfather?”

“Well,” Trunks said after clearing his throat uncomfortably. “They’re mostly dead. The planet was destroyed. My father and Goku are pretty much the only ones left. My father has a weird brother.”

“Your uncle,” Shawn said pointedly.

“Sure,” Trunks said, shrugging. “He doesn’t live on Earth, though.”

“Hmm,” Shawn said, sighing. “OK.” She stood up, unsteadily. “I guess we should… leave, huh?”

“Oh,” Trunks said, sounding surprised. “OK.”

The three walked out of the little room and back onto the tiled platform.

The others were fighting about something. Dende had left the group, and had wandered over to the edge of the Lookout, looking disgusted with them. At least, every time he shot the others an exasperated look and sighed loudly he looked disgusted with all of them.

“I don’t think you know what a eunuch is, Vegeta,” Krillin was saying, sounding exasperated. “It means something else for humans.”

“I don’t know what it means for humans _or_ Saiyans,” Goku was saying.

“Oh, here’s the Boy, the eunuch, and the washing machine,” Vegeta said, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms.

“Um,” Shawn said, and she started to look a little less tired, a little less… broken. “Did you call me a eunuch?”

“He means a non-fighter,” Krillin explained, looking exasperated. “Just… ignore him.”

“Not just a non-fighter,” Vegeta continued. “Someone who… _you know_.” Vegeta gave Shawn a meaningful look.

“No one knows what you’re talking about, Vegeta,” Goten said tightly. “Hi, Shawn. How are you?”

“What do you mean ‘you know’?” Shawn asked, suspiciously.

“Your parents _burned_ you, repeatedly, starting when you were, what, 13? And you couldn’t fight back, because they told you it was _good_ for you? For your _safety_? Yeah. Sorry, but you’re almost certainly a eunuch. I’ll eat my armor if you’re not, even just a little. Besides, if your grandfather _was_ called Asparog, he was probably low-class. It’s not a high-class name. So you had the right _genes_ to be a eunuch, and then with the burning…”

In the ensuing moment of confused silence, 18 watched Shawn carefully. She looked… like she was maybe, starting to understand what Vegeta was getting at. Although 18 herself was lost.

 “I think Shawn should move in with you guys at Capsule Corp,” Krillin said finally, breaking the awkward silence. “I’d say we should take her in, but we don’t have a spare room. But… 18 can visit a lot. You’d like that, right Shawn? 18 would like to see you again. You two are friends.”

Krillin very rarely spoke for 18. When he did, when he was _so_ sure about her intentions, a warm little glow spread through 18’s chest. She would never tell him that, though. And it wasn’t like he knew. She thought.

“Don’t speak for me!” 18 spat.

“What do you mean when you say a eunuch?” Shawn said suspiciously, still staring at Vegeta.

“It means your pain and pleasure centers are all mixed up,” Vegeta said. “It makes you a less effective fighter. On Planet Vegeta they would make eunuchs by performing ritualized pain on already weaker – lower-class -- Saiyans in adolescence. They weren’t allowed to fight back. Then, when they were older, their pain and pleasure centers got all messed up. They were used as… practice fighters. Saiyan punching bags, almost.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about the happy times on good ole Planet Vegeta right now,” Krillin said, his voice getting higher as he got more worried.

“They… tortured people,” Shawn said, frowning.

“Well…” Vegeta said, shrugging. “I don’t know. They enjoyed it in the end, right?”

“Why does the planet have the same name as you?” Shawn continued, her eyes narrowing.

“Because I, you little eunuch, am from the royal house. I am the Prince of All Saiyans!”

“Maybe let’s not call her a eunuch,” Goten said quickly, looking uneasily from Shawn to Vegeta. “Actually, maybe let’s just drop it. Let’s focus on, say, where Shawn is going to live.”

“I still don’t really understand what’s going on,” Goku said helpfully.

“Masochists,” Shawn said, her voice sounding a bit far away. “He’s saying I’m a masochist. Because of what happened to me.”

“Oh!” Goku said nodding. “And what’s that?”

“Jesus, aren’t you married?” Vegeta snapped. “Just… ask your wife.

“No, I don’t mean like everyday kind of human masochism,” Vegeta continued. “Hickeys and all that. More intense. They would drop dead all the time from taking things too far when they were either… alone, or with people. I don’t know if it’s a good idea for Shawn to stay with us, we can’t have her bleeding out all over the carpet…”

“Dad!” Trunks snapped, and 18 had never seen him look so… _ashamed_ of his father.

“All right, great,” Shawn said, nodding. “And you all want me to _move in_ with this man who is married, and old enough to be my father, and seems really, _really_ interested in my… sexual proclivities?”

“He’s not _interested_ in them,” Trunks said murderously, glaring at his father. “He had _better_ not be.”

“And _there_ it is,” Vegeta yelled, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “It’s starting already! She’s been here like two minutes and is already sowing discord among the men! Is that a _threat,_ Boy? Are you _threatening_ me?”

“You just have to ignore him,” Goten told Shawn, trying maniacally to look calm. “His bark is worse than his bite. Well. Recently it has been…”

“Why does everyone think they can just _ignore_ me all the time!? Stop it!” Vegeta cried.

“Because you keep talking about embarrassing things and confusing everyone,” Krillin said, exasperatedly. That was Krillin, all right, 18 thought. Trying to smooth things over while simultaneously letting everyone know how irritated he was.

“I still don’t understand why it’s embarrassing,” Goku started. “Or what this has to do with sex…”

“Jesus, _who cares_ if she’s a fighter or if she likes… _that_ ,” Krillin started. “She doesn’t have a place to stay. She needs to stay _somewhere_ —“

“Because – Jesus, do you want me to say it?” Vegeta asked.

“No one knows what you’re talking about!” Krillin yelled.

“Because of Goten and Trunks! _They’re_ not married. Christ. We can’t have a _eunuch_ around them.”

“Dad... Goten _told you_ , Stop. Calling. Shawn. That.” Trunks said, almost baring his teeth at his father.

“Don’t you _dare_ tell me what to do, Boy!”

“You think we’re going to _fight_ over Shawn?” Goten said, realizing. “Is _that_ what you’re trying to say?”

“What?” Trunks asked.

“What?” Shawn asked.

“That’s what happens with eunuchs. People want them as their—“ Vegeta rolled his eyes and made heavy air-quotes—“ _pets_. Because you can do anything to them. That… was the stereotype anyway… it wasn’t nice. You shouldn’t feel _entitled_ to someone in that way. They should… you know. _Want_ you as well. But, anyway… fighting could ensue. It’s gross. The whole thing was… weird.”

“Have you… have you… stumbled into… feminism?” Shawn asked haltingly. She had started anxiously pulling on her hair, yanking great handfuls of curly hair. It looked painful. Well… painful. Hmm.

“Trust me, he hasn’t,” 18 said, placing a hand on Shawn’s arm and leaning towards her. “Stop pulling your hair, you’ll just give him fuel to yell more,” she whispered into Shawn’s ear, trying to sound kind.

Shawn apparently hadn’t noticed that she _had_ been pulling huge chunks of hair, because she blushed slightly and flung the hair behind her back, looking murderous.

“I won’t be anyone’s _pet,_ you… Prince,” Shawn said, articulating the last word sarcastically. “Prince of, what, like four people? Hardly an accomplishment. Besides, Trunks and Goten are half-human.”

“So?” Vegeta asked her suspiciously.

“There are human websites where they could find _human_ ‘pets’ as you so lovingly call them,” Shawn said, her voice clipped. “Cuter ones than me. They won’t fight over me, promise. Really. Besides, I’ll castrate them if they try.”

To 18’s astonishment, Vegeta _smiled_ a little bit at that.

“So maybe you're not _totally_ a eunuch,” Vegeta said, chuckling a bit “You’re still brave. OK. Castrate them if they start fighting over you. Sounds fine to me.”

“Are we… have we started talking about adopting pets? I am _really_ lost.” Goku said.

“Does that mean you’ll agree to live at Capsule Corp for a while?” Krillin asked hopefully.

“I… I think so,” Shawn said after a minute. 18 noticed that her hands were balled into fists, and her nails were digging into her palms that they might break the skin. “What the hell. It’s big, no? I can avoid all of you. Besides, I thought I would be dead by this point anyway.”

“I’m glad this has all worked out and this group of assholes didn’t ruin your life, Shawn.” Dende babbled to Shawn as the group started readying for their trip back to the Earth’s surface. “You’ll be ok at Capsule Corp. Vegeta’s terrible, but the kids and Bulma aren’t so bad. And you should come visit me, too, Shawn,” Dende was saying, smiling up at Shawn. “Just only bring one of these assholes next time, not like, all of them. Or, better yet, bring Gohan.”

“I’ll come and see you tomorrow,” 18 assured Shawn, squeezing her shoulder slightly.

“My stuff is still in the car I was using…” Shawn said, swaying from side-to-side slightly. “Near the alley.”

“I can bring it tomorrow. Well. Not the car. Is that ok? The car didn’t look like it was worth much…”

“It broke down,” Shawn said, shrugging. “I’ll get a ticket if I just leave it there, though…”

“I can arrange it to be towed,” 18 said, trying to avoid Krillin’s eye. He was _smiling_ at her. “But I’ll see you tomorrow? Say, noon?”

“OK,” Shawn agreed.

“Don’t let them scare you,” 18 whispered into Shawn’s ear. “I’m stronger than them all, probably.”

Shawn laughed.

“I’m serious,” 18 said, smiling at her slightly.

Shawn frowned at her.

“Um… okay,” she said after a second.

\--

“I think it’s nice you have a friend,” Krillin said sleepily, his thumb slowly tracing circles an inch above 18’s belly button. “I’m glad she’ll be around. I can tell you like her.”

“Mmm,” 18 said, tucking her arms behind her head and looking up at the ceiling. “I was put through a lot of pain when I was a tween, you know. By Dr. Gero.”

“I know,” Krillin whispered, leaning over and nuzzling her neck.

“ _I_ don’t like pain during…”

“I know,” Krillin whispered, his voice starting to sound a little hoarse.

“ _You_ like it more than I do,” 18 continued.

Krillin squirmed a bit against her.

“Is that weird?” Krillin whispered into her ear. He sounded… nervous. “Do you… think it’s weird?”

18 kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, really struggle with these big group scenes where lots of people are around.


	15. She was the extra, the prize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chatty-chatty-chatty-chatty.
> 
> People chit-chat.
> 
> Shawn is self-loathing, Bra is preoccupied with her place in the universe(s), Trunks is embarrassed by mementos!

“He said that it wasn’t _nice_?” Bra asked, her pajama-clad knees underneath her chin. “It wasn’t _nice_ that people on Vegeta would fight over… what, people… who had been turned into… masochists?”

“Yeah,” Trunks said, leaning back against the wall. They were in Bra’s messy room, posters of pop stars on the wall and dirty socks littered on the purple carpet.

“Do you think they were… like… sex slaves?” Bra asked, fidgeting and blushing uncomfortably.

“I don’t know,” Trunks said, sighing. “He said they were ‘punching bags’ but then also said people called them ‘pets.’”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah.”

Bra tapped her fingers on her knees.

“Do you think Dad wishes he was still there? Planet Vegeta?”

“If he could take Mom with him, maybe,” Trunks said, shrugging. “I don’t know. It got destroyed when he was pretty young. I’m surprised he remembers so much about it.”

“Hmmm…” Bra said, picking a piece of lint off of her knee. 'If he could take  _Mom_ with him,' Trunks had said. That was probably right. What about us, Bra wondered. Would he need to take us to a hypothetical planet Vegeta to be happy? Maybe not. She thought most parents cared about their children about as much -- or more, even -- than their spouse. But with her father... it always felt like Trunks and her were secondary to her mother. The way Dad _looked_ at Mom, sometimes, when he thought no one was looking.

She knew people sort of assumed that their father loved her more than Trunks, but she wasn't sure that that was right either. Trunks was... well, Trunks. The one who existed throughout many multiverses. The time-traveler. The inevitable outcome from her parents' passion for each other. She was the extra, the (possibly inadequate?) prize for this universe surviving the Androids, and Cell. She probably only existed in this timeline.

“How long do you think Shawn will stay here?” Bra said, trying to rid herself of moody thoughts about multiverses. Pan didn't exist in all of the multiverses either... Marron certainly didn't. 

“I don’t know,” Trunks said, shrugging. “I didn’t think she would want to stay with us at all, but…”

“I’m sorry,” Bra said suddenly, willing herself not to blush. She didn’t _like_ apologizing.

“For… for what?” Trunks asked, looking confused.

“For saying you have a crush on her. Before.”

“Oh,” Trunks said. “It’s… it’s fine.”

“If she’s _here_ all the time, jokes like that seem… mean.” Bra continued. She wrinkled her nose at him. “She might get the wrong idea.”

“What do you mean?” Trunks asked, frowning.

“I don’t know. She watched you a lot at the party. I noticed.”

“I didn’t see that…”

Bra laughed.

“She was sneaky, I guess,” Bra said, shrugging. “And I know you like _pretty_ girls,” Bra said, nudging Trunks.

Trunks frowned at her.

“What does that mean?”

“ _You_ know. Your appearance is important to you, and you want to date someone who cares too.” Bra said. “You’re like Mom. She cares about her appearance a lot, too.”

“You spend an hour in the morning getting ready for school,” Trunks snapped, and he sounded annoyed. “Don’t lecture _me_ about caring about my appearance!”

God, Bra thought. _Men._

“I’m not saying I _don’t_ care about my appearance,” Bra said, rolling her eyes. “I’m just saying that you do, too.”

“Bra!” Bulma’s voice rang through the door. “Are you and Trunks in there?”

“Yeah,” Bra yelled back. “You can come in.”

Bulma stuck her head into the door.

“Shawn’s out of the shower. Come on, clear out some of the drawers in the guest room for her…”

“She doesn’t _have_ anything, though,” Bra protested. “She literally only had the dress on her back.”

“She’s going shopping with 18 tomorrow. It’s ridiculous how the two of you have been using the guest room as a kind of walk-in closet, anyway.”

“Oh, this coming from the woman with a _literal_ walk-in closet,” Bra grumbled.

“You can get a walk-in closet when _you_ create an award-winning invention,” Bulma said irritably. “And both of you – grab any spare books or magazines you have and bring them to Shawn. I think she’s lonely.”

“Well, _I_ don’t have books,” Bra said, getting up from the bed. “Because _I’m_ a teenager and technologically literate. I read books online. But if she likes paperback books about sad lonely virginal men drinking coffee in coffeeshops and engineering I’m sure Trunks’s library will be a boon for her.”

“That was _one_ book.” Trunks protested, following her out into the hallway. “One.”

One, thought Bra, rolling her eyes. Something about literature made Trunks really embrace his inner-fifteen-year-old.

“There was _also_ the book about the child rapist. Maybe she’ll love that.”

“That was _Lolita_. It’s a classic.”

“And _that_ makes it all right, I suppose?” Bra said darkly, flipping her hair behind her and sauntering into the spare room, where Shawn was sitting on the full bed wearing a slightly-too-small white robe. She was putting something into her hair, which she had flipped over the side of the bed. It almost hit the floor.

Bra stared.

“Holy shit,” she said. “Your hair is _long_ , Shawn?”

“When it’s wet, yeah,” Shawn said, “the water stretches out the curls.”

“Do you… want any books or anything?” Trunks asked, looking awkward.

“Trunks has one about a pedophile,” Bra blurted out, always thrilled with her ability to irritate her brother.

“I heard,” Shawn said dryly. “Lolita. Not interested in that one, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah, I don’t blame you,” Bra said, studying Shawn. She liked the way she methodically rubbed the cream into her hair. It looked... responsible, somehow.

“What’s that?” Bra asked, nodding to the bottle in Shawn’s hand.

“Oh, just some conditioner. There was some spare stuff under the sink.”

“That’s the cheap stuff,” Bra said, peeking at the label. “For guests. You could have used Trunks’s fancy, expensive stuff. He shares that bathroom with you, you know.”

“Bra!” Trunks snapped, glaring over at her from the closet, where he was taking out some suitjackets. Hahah, thought Bra. You’re embarrassed you use expensive hair stuff. Hahahahaha.

“I know,” Shawn said, smiling. “I find this cheap stuff works better for me, anyway.”

“Do you need anything else?” Bra asked, still looking at Shawn’s hair. “Is your hair heavy?”

“When it’s wet, kind of,” Shawn said.

“Can I braid it?” Bra blurted out. That was a little embarrassing, she thought. She wasn’t… _eleven_ anymore, when braiding other girls’ hair was the height of excitement.

“Bra!” Trunks said, glaring at her. “This isn’t a slumber party!”

Bra made a face at him.

“You can try,” Shawn said, moving forward on the bed. Bra clambered behind her and started attempting to braid her hair.

“It’s slimy with all this stuff in it,” Bra said.

“Yeah, it takes a while to soak in,” Shawn said.

Trunks walked through the bathroom to his bedroom with a pile of suit jackets. He came back in a few seconds later, holding a sheet of paper.

“Did you print something out on my printer?” He asked, holding the paper towards her. He was blushing slightly.

“Oh, yeah… Bulma said I could. It’s just a photograph of my parents and me…” Shawn said, and Bra could smell her getting a little embarrassed.

“Can I see?” Bra asked.

“Sure,” Shawn said, handing over the photo to her.

A man with the longest nose Bra had ever seen sat next to a fat, solid-looking woman with larger hair than Shawn. She also had a beard, neatly-trimmed.

In front of the two of them was a much younger Shawn, doing the splits. She grinned at the camera, her arms outstretched. She was wearing… a leotard of some kind. Golden.

“How old are you in this?”

“About your age. Fifteen.”

“Do you really get a beard if you don’t shave?” Bra asked, studying the woman in the picture. So this was the half-Saiyan...

“It’s more like a few long whiskers on my chin,” Shawn said. “But I’ve been plucking them since I was a teen, so they’re pretty faint now. I get a moustache that’s more noticeable…”

“How old were you when you learned how to swallow swords?”

“Bra, don’t pester Shawn!” Trunks said, glaring up at her from the drawer he was unloading.

“She’s not,” Shawn said. “I’ll tell her if she is.”

Hah, Bra thought. A part of you just wishes it was _you_ who was here, braiding Shawn’s hair and asking her questions. You always need attention from _any_ woman… pathetic, thought Bra, hypocritically.

“I started when I was seventeen,” Shawn said. “But it takes a long time to be able to swallow a full sword. You have to learn how to relax your throat.”

“Mmm,” Bra said, tying off the end of the braid. "That makes sense."

Trunks sauntered out of the room, and Bra could tell that he was trying to look as cool as possible while carrying a pile of jeans, socks, and underwear.

“Thanks,” Shawn said, flipping the braid behind her. She glanced at the bathroom door that Trunks had just retreated through. “I found this under the mattress,” Shawn said, pulling out a small box. “There’s pictures of women and some letters in here… your brother’s, maybe?”

“Oh, _God,_ what a freaking weirdo,” Bra sighed, taking the photos. Ruti and Mai. Jesus.

“Who are they?” Shawn said, and Bra could tell she was slightly anxious.

“His exes,” Bra said, rolling his eyes. “This one,” she said, pointing to Ruti’s, “is Ruti.”

“Oh,” Shawn said, wrinkling her nose. “She was at the party. She had black hair, though…”

“Yeah, she dyed it after Trunks dumped her, I guess,” Bra said, rolling her eyes. “Probably because she thought it would make her look like Mai…”

“Who’s Mai?”

“This girl," Bra said, gesturing to the other photo. "We thought she was Trunks’s soulmate for a while, because they dated in another timeline, or something. They dated for years, he was going to _propose,_ but then bam! She dumped him.”

“Another… timeline?” Shawn asked, frowning.

“Yeah,” Bra said. “A parallel universe. There are all these different ones and… it’s a little complicated. But I’m not even in that one. But Trunks has a version of himself there, and he’s in love with Mai, or something. So we all thought… they would, in this one too. But it didn’t work out that way.”

Bra turned over the photograph in her hands.

“He was _extremely_ upset about it for some reason. Skulked for months. I don’t get it. I wasn’t even sure he _liked_ her that much… I mean, that’s the timeline where Aunt 18 basically killed everyone, and she’s not doing that _here,_ so… I mean, things don’t have to be the same, do they? _I’m_ not even in that timeline! And you’re probably dead in it too!”

“Wait… what?” Shawn asked, sounding alarmed.

“You’ll get used to it eventually,” Bra said, shrugging. “Aunt 18 won’t kill people in _this_ timeline, probably. Besides, we don’t talk about the parallel universes _too_ much… it feels weird. It makes you feel… inadequate. Like you only matter because of choices _other_ people made.”

Bra stood up.

“Trunks!” she yelled through the bathroom to the room on the other side. “Shawn found your weird _shrine_ to your exes, you unbelievable weirdo!”

“No, no,” Shawn said, blushing and thrusting the box closed and flinging it on the bed. “Don’t tell him we looked at it! I shouldn’t have even brought it up…”

There was a pause from Trunks’s room and Bra could sense that it was an angry, embarrassed, outraged pause. She was good at “hearing” angry pauses. She had lots of practice, what with her father. And her brother. And… well, ok, her mother too.

“Can you bring it here, Bra?” Trunks said tightly, a clattering sound coming from his room. “I’ve got… my hands full.”

“What a loser,” Bra muttered, rolling her eyes.

“You know what, I’ll bring it to him,” Shawn said quickly, hopping up. “Smooth things over. I should apologize for looking at his junk.”

Bra considered making a “That’s what she said,” joke, but decided against it. People sometimes got flustered when she made them. They thought she was too young. Idiots.

\--

“Knock, knock,” Shawn said softly, standing on the cool bathroom tiles and knocking on the side of the door frame that led into Trunks’s room. Trunks was wrestling with the closet bar in his closet, which had apparently fallen from the weight of all the added suit jackets. How many suits does one man need, Shawn wondered. Look, there were _three_ gray suits there in that pile! How different could they possibly be from one another?!

“Oh,” Trunks said, glancing over at her, looking annoyed. This was dumb, Shawn thought glumly. Try to be… nice, and look at where it lands me. Looking idiotic in a too-small, too-short robe, unshaven legs, disaster hair and irritating a good-looking boy. Great. I should have just let Bra bring it…

“I’ll just… leave it on your desk, here,” Shawn said awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have looked in it…”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Trunks muttered, finally clicking the closet rod into place. “I shouldn’t have left it there.”

“I didn’t read any of the letters…” Shawn continued, awkwardly.

“I should probably just burn them,” Trunks said irritably. “It felt weird having them in my bedroom, so I put them in the spare room, which _also_ felt a bit weird, to tell you the truth.”

Shawn didn’t know what to say. She didn’t have any love letters from exes.

She looked around, frowning slightly. It was a nice room, light gray walls and a pale blue bedspread. Bookshelves crammed with books.

“Take any books you want,” Trunks said, hanging up some of the fallen suits. “I know you don’t have a computer or a phone right now…”

“Um,” Shawn said. “OK.”

She wasn’t dumb, she reminded herself. She had read a fair amount. She just was… uneducated. She hoped. Shit, maybe she was dumb. She wouldn’t know.

But looking at the bookcase filled with books about… physics, and math, and… chemistry made her feel inadequate. She didn’t even really know what physics was. Chemistry, she thought had something to do with chemicals in beakers... She had sort of assumed that Trunks was… dumb. Someone so good-looking really shouldn’t be _smart_ as well. But then, Bulma Briefs was very attractive and _very_ smart. Good genes.

She was acutely aware of how much her robe gaped open in the front. It wasn’t in a hot way, either, with her boobs pressing suggestively out at the seams. No, it gaped in a way that screamed “I’m a robe made for a woman! Why is someone with such enormous _shoulders_ wearing me?!” Her breasts were completely covered. Only largely unattractive parts of her were showing – a pimple on her upper chest, a mole on her lower neck. Great.

Staring at the bookshelf stupidly, she felt like she had to choose _something_.

She grabbed something at random, some piece of fiction that looked unassuming enough.

“Thanks,” she muttered, and headed back to her room.

“Did Trunks force you to take some of his gloomy literature?” Bra asked, flopped out on the bed and staring at the ceiling. Even _she_ was pretty, Shawn thought, and then felt idiotic for comparing herself to a young teenager. It wasn’t _her_ fault she was pretty. It wasn’t Bra’s fault Shawn was ugly, either.

Shawn felt unbelievably exhausted with herself. But she couldn’t – or wouldn’t, perhaps – just _stop_ fretting about her appearance. It was like a drug. An itch. A bruise that hurt when you pushed it, but it was for some reason _so_ shudderingly satisfying when you keep agitating it, until finally breaking the skin and blood and pus rushed out… She couldn’t stop. Eunuch, she thought, sighing. Liking pain. Hmmm.

“I’m tired,” Shawn said to Bra irritably. She wasn’t, really, but she wanted to be left alone. She wondered if she should be nicer to Bra.

“Ok,” Bra said, shrugging and hopping off the bed. She looked totally unfazed. Well. Living with that man as a father, maybe she was used to people snapping at her.

 Shawn locked the door to the hallway, and the door to her and Trunks’s shared bathroom.

She took off the robe and climbed into the bed, delighting in the feeling of the clean sheets on her naked skin.

She slept with the lights on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How much self-hatred fills me as I publish this chapter?!?! A fair amount. I rapidly publish fanfic, pushing myself to write and publish, and then I mope that pacing is off, and that there are chapters where not much happens. But I refuse to actually write out many chapters in advance and like, edit them. That's not what I use fanfic for, sorry kiddos and kidderinskis! 
> 
> But maybe something will happen in the next chapter!!! Woooo!!!
> 
> (I'm going to also be honest here: I have no freaking idea how AU this is. Does the average human living in the DB universe know about Saiyans, aliens, Cell, etc.? Or do they get explained away after all the catastrophes happen? I suppose Shawn's backstory isn't all that plausible if the average person knew who Saiyans were, knew they were involved with Capsule Corp, etc. She wouldn't have been surprised that they were sniffing around her heritage, if that makes sense.)


	16. I won't tell if you don't.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta finally gets around to asking Bulma if she knew what the hell fellatio was.

“I doubt that Trunks and Goten would _fight_ over _Shawn_ ,” Bulma said, drying off her short hair with a towel and clamoring into her bed. Vegeta was already under the covers, naked and staring up at the ceiling.

“And why’s that?” Vegeta asked, placing his arms behind his head.

“I don’t know. I think they could do better,” Bulma said, trying to grab some of the sheets from her husband.

“Do you mean because she’s unattractive?” Vegeta asked, now closing his eyes and smirking slightly.

“I guess. She also doesn’t have much of an education.”

Vegeta didn’t say anything for a while.

“She’s not _that_ unattractive,” Vegeta finally said.

“Hmm,” Bulma responded, grabbing her tablet and switching it on. She had some emails she had to respond to…

“Sometimes I think you forget Trunks and Goten are half-Saiyan,” Vegeta said, sounding slightly far away.

Bulma put down the tablet.

“What does _that_ mean?” she asked.

Vegeta shrugged.

“Well?” Bulma prompted again.

“She looks -- more or less -- like a female Saiyan,” Vegeta said. “The nose is a bit long, but she wouldn’t be considered really bad-looking on Vegeta. Just kind of average. I wonder why she looks more like a full-blooded Saiyan than _our_ kids. She’s only a quarter, and I have the superior genes than _her_ ancestors, goddamit!”

Bulma blinked.

“Are you… are _you_ attracted to her?” Bulma asked, haltingly.

“Jesus, woman!” Vegeta scoffed. “Don’t be disgusting. No. She’s old enough to be my child. She _might_ be my child, one of these days…”

“What does _that_ mean?”

“The Boy’s protective of her. He wanted to hit me earlier today, when he thought I was being mean to her. On the Lookout. He never wanted to do that for Ruti. Or even… Mai.”

“You were never mean to Mai,” Bulma said, sighing. They had all had such high hopes for Mai. It was such a surprise when it hadn’t worked out. Well. Vegeta hadn’t actually seemed all that surprised. He had… grunted, or something when he had found out.

“Hmmm,” Vegeta said thoughtfully. “I don’t know…”

Bulma reached out and wiped away a stray eyelash from her husband’s cheek.

“You never told me about fellatio,” Vegeta said as she took her hand away. Bulma froze.

“What?”

“Blowjobs, the younger earthlings call them. I don’t understand why they call them that. You never told me.”

“Oh…” Bulma said, feeling her cheeks getting red. “Uh…”

“You told _me_ I had to pleasure _you_ in that way,” Vegeta continued, and Bulma could see a small smirk spreading across his face. “That it was expected to please an Earthling woman…”

“Well…” Bulma said haltingly. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Mmm… no,” Vegeta said, and now he was leaning his head on her stomach and looking up at her. “I like tasting you. Hearing you squeal.”

Amazing that she could be married to him for so many years and he could still make her flush so easily.

“You don’t want to taste me?” Vegeta continued, a little gleam in his eye. “Hear _me_ moan?”

Bulma felt her breath catch slightly.

“Um,” she said, licking her lips. “Well… it’s a bit different…”

“How so?” Vegeta asked her, and… oh, he had started to kiss her on the stomach, pulling up her lacy camisole.

“I don’t like… how it feels to gag…” Bulma said, shivering slightly as Vegeta kept pushing up her camisole up above her breasts.

“You wouldn’t have to gag,” Vegeta whispered.

“You’re hung like a horse, Vegeta,” Bulma sighed.

Vegeta paused above her nipple – god _damn_ him, Bulma thought – and looked at her questioningly.

“Ah,” he said. “I… did some reading. Watched some… films.” He licked his lips. Oh, _fuck,_ thought Bulma. “That’s… called ‘deep throating’, right?”

“I guess so,” Bulma breathed, squirming slightly.

“I think lots of people don’t like that. Some people just sort of… suck on the tip,” Vegeta said, finally placing his lips on her nipple and sucking gently.

Bulma let out a low groan.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t desire me in that way,” Vegeta said, moving over to her other breast. “I just wanted you to let you know… if you wanted to try, I’d... be gentle.”

“Be gentle?” Bulma breathed, squirming as Vegeta nipped at her. “That’s not really your specialty.”

“I know,” Vegeta said, giving her a little look that made Bulma gulp. “But I watched some pornographic films – for research -- and men often sort of… _pushed_ down women’s heads onto them.”

“Yes,” Bulma said, feeling uncomfortable.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Vegeta said. “If you didn’t like it. I would restrain myself.”

Vegeta rested his head on her stomach again, looking up at her.

“I guess I usually thought it was… assumed that you were supposed to do that – go deep, I mean – if you were going to do it at all…. That… you were _supposed_ to do it…” Bulma said, trying not to remember Yamcha pushing her head down and her saying she didn’t like that, and him trying to be okay with it, but nevertheless looking so, so annoyed with her… That had _not_ been a good day. For her or Yamcha.

“Hmm,” Vegeta said, stretching and uncovering himself. He was already hard. Christ, he’s good-looking, Bulma thought. “You thought you were _supposed_ to, huh? Well… I won’t tell if you don't.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You get another chapter today because I'm in a really stressful, hell-scape-filled time of my life and this is how I procrastinate/be the dog in that flaming house meme being like "this is fine."


	17. Concerning Breakfast Fantasies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shawn reflects on some things during breakfast.

Two weeks later, Shawn had settled into a somewhat uncomfortable routine at Capsule Corp. She was probably overstaying her welcome. But the family seemed happy to have her there… usually. Almost always. Besides, dropping everything and moving out had been an expensive exercise – even if it was only for a week. The car had cost money. The fake ID. She had no savings. She had no job – the union had replaced her position with someone more qualified (a college degree) although didn’t have her experience winning frightening conversations (she was still called The Dragon). She was given a few hours here and there when the union could afford it, which wasn’t terribly often.

She had started working with Lacy the fire-eater and Ellis the blockhead again, but the year or so of not performing had taken its toll. She was out of shape, out of practice. She got exhausted even after a night of Paradisimo – which used to be an _easy_ gig -- and the manager had taken her aside and suggested she _really_ concentrate on losing some weight. She wasn’t a stripper, but – the manager had said haltingly – you still wear tight clothes. And you’re still on a stripper pole.

She would eat breakfast with the Briefs, and uneasily field questions from Bulma about how her tutoring with Trunks was going. That was one of Bulma’s ideas – having Trunks tutor her to help her get her GED. Bulma had been very definite on that subject.

“Trunks, you’re not working right now…” Bulma had said the second evening Shawn had stayed there. “You should help Shawn get her GED…”

“Oh,” Shawn had said, horrified at the prospect of contending with multiplication, and worse, contending with multiplication with an attractive man, “I think that ship has sailed…”

“Don’t be silly,” Bulma had said firmly, setting down the most enormous plate of sashimi Shawn had ever seen on the table. “You told 18 how difficult it was to get a good, stable job without one. That the union had already replaced you with someone with a _college_ degree and can only give you random, hourly projects…”

How _dare_ 18, Shawn had thought murderously.

The next day 18 had come over for dinner and Shawn had glowered at her. After dinner 18 had come into Shawn’s bedroom and sauntered around the place, looking at the small photographs Shawn had pinned up on the wall.

“I know you’re irritated that I talked to Bulma about you,” 18 had said, sighing, and in that moment Shawn realized that 18 was closer to Bulma and Vegeta’s generation than hers, and she was potentially turning from a _good friend_ into _one of the children whom I’m close to._ “But it will be easier for you, Shawn, to have a GED.”

Shawn wasn’t even sure about that. Job applications asked _when_ you got your GED, no? Wouldn’t it look strange, getting it when you were 28?

Sometimes, at the breakfast table, Bulma would ask _Trunks_ how Shawn was doing in these daily GED cram sessions and Trunks and his mother would have a calculated conversation about how Shawn had trouble understanding parabolas and PEMDAS and Bulma would offer suggestions about how to better explain these concepts to Shawn as if she wasn’t even there.

The first time it happened, Shawn was outraged. It seemed so clinically rude, to talk about her as if she was a child, something to talk _about_ but not talk _to,_ the way you would talk about a baby or a family pet. The family… pet. Vegeta had called ‘eunuchs’ that. Pets.

And then, suddenly, these conversations about her had become more… interesting. Trunks was, after all, _very_ attractive.

She would spin little fantasies in her mind of them talking about her, over her, at the breakfast table. They were... interesting.

“Shawn is still apt to forget the order of operations,” Trunks would say in these concerning breakfast fantasies.

“Have you tried fucking her?” Bulma would say, clinically, easily. “Pin her arms above her hands above her head and really let her have it. Hiss PEMDAS in her while you do so. _That_ will help her to remember those pesky exponents.”

Just press her head down on top of your cock, Trunks. All the way. We _all_ know she doesn’t have a gag reflux.

Try biting her neck. Vegeta said she likes pain, anyway.

Occasionally she would push these fantasies too far, landing in a dark place that made her feel more uncomfortable than horny.

Just slap her around a little. Pull her hair and make her whimper. Lean her over the breakfast table and _make_ her thank you, and thank this family for all our kindness, letting her stay her rent free, feeding her, educating her… Just take her, Trunks, spit on her, hit her, slap her, and let her know that she’s lucky to ever have _touched_ you, she’s so unattractive. Laugh at her. She’s a virgin? Unexperienced? It doesn’t matter. Who would want _her_?

And the absolute worst part of it, was that she was starting to…

She didn’t even want to admit it to herself. It was too… gross. Predictable. Pathetic.

But, it was there, a little warm part in her chest that had been planted when she had seen Trunks’s face when Vegeta had been yelling at him over some mishap during one of the training sessions he and his father had daily.

She had dropped the glass of orange juice she was holding when she had seen his blushing, blinking, and extremely _angry_ face.  

She liked him. A lot.  

And then, on a Saturday afternoon, Shawn had been stretching out on her bedroom (the spare bedroom, she corrected herself) on the floor, leaning forward in the splits, when there was an abrupt knock on the door.

“Come in,” she called.

Goten came in, Trunks behind him.

“Hi, Goten,” Shawn said, smiling. She hadn’t seen him around much.

“Hey!” Goten said, all smiles and grins. “Can we come to your show tonight? At the… club?”

“Oh,” Shawn said, thinking uncomfortably of what the manager had told her about her weight.

“I told you this was a bad idea, Goten,” Trunks said, his hands in his pockets. “Is it weird? To see you at a strip club?”

 “No, it’s not that,” Shawn said, trying to seem cool and composed. “I’m just worried because I’m so out of practice. But yeah, I won’t feel weird about you looking at the strippers.” She didn’t _think_ she would, anyway. Hmm. “They’ve got to eat too, you know? They work hard.”

“What time should we go?” Goten asked, grinning.

“We have a set at 10, 11:30, and 12:45,” Shawn said. “It usually is busiest at the 11:30 show…”

“What do you do during your off time?” Goten asked. “Those are pretty long breaks.”

“Oh,” Shawn said, and now she did feel a bit embarrassed. “Well. We mingle. Talk to men at the bar.”

“Can we talk to you?” Goten asked.

“Yeah,” Shawn said. “You’re supposed to buy us drinks and tip us, though. And the bartender.”

“Ohhh,” Goten said, grinning, realizing. “Would you have to _flirt_ with us?”

Shawn laughed. He was such an earnest-looking guy. So good-natured.

“We’re supposed to,” Shawn said, making a face and trying to ignore the fact that Trunks was staring at her impassively. “I’m not great at it, to be honest. I’m often just sitting there, alone. Lacy -- the fire-eater -- does well, though. She has lots of admirers.”

“All right,” Goten said, giving her a good-natured wink. “See you then.”

It wasn’t until they left that a small amount of panic rose in Shawn’s chest.

It’ll be fine, she told herself, rolling her eyes. Fine.


	18. Like A Family Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bra has an idea for an extracurricular activity. It involves her getting to miss school in a resort town.

Bra looked at the notes in her hands. They were good. It was a good idea. Her mother was  _ bound _ to agree. Just… don’t mention the fact that pop singer Beyonci  _ happened _ to be in that town the same weekend. That had nothing,  _ nothing _ to do with this. Of course not. Besides, her mother probably didn’t even know who Beyonci  _ was,  _ never mind her tour schedule. 

She wandered in to the cluttered work garage, finding her mother underneath a ship of some sort. Probably a spaceship. She wondered why – it wasn’t like they went to space much these days. It was all… boring stuff. Meals and school and her father yelling at her for not trying hard in her training sessions  _ or  _ her homework. It wasn’t fair.  _ He  _ hadn’t had homework when he was her age. 

“I was a prisoner of war when I was your age,” her father had said to her when she had thrown that in his face, after he had scolded her for not doing well on a history essay. It had taken the wind out of her sails, a bit.

“That’s… that’s  _ not the point!”  _ she had yelled back at him, flinging down the hated history book. “Besides, it was  _ still  _ probably better than dealing with Mrs. Henninway and her insane history papers!”

“Mom,” she said, loudly, in case her mother was listening to rap music on her headphones again. Ugh. She could be so embarrassing. 

Her mother slid out and took out her earbuds.

“What is it, Bra?” She asked, oil on her face.

“I want to talk to you about something,” Bra said, shifting from one foot to the other. 

“Ok,” Bulma said, sitting up and taking a swig from the water bottle by her feet. “What’s up?”

“You know how you have that big investor meeting at the resort in December… In Turmeric Town…”

“No, Bra,” Bulma said irritably. “You can’t go. I  _ know  _ it’s a nice resort, but we can’t turn every investor meeting into a kind of  _ vacation  _ for you. You have to go to school.”

“I had an idea…” Bra continued. “You know how you always are saying I need to buff up my extracurricular activities?”

“Going on vacation is  _ not  _ an extracurricular, Bra,” Bulma said, looking longingly at the ship behind her. 

“Well… I had an idea. What if we hosted a tournament there?”

“What?” Bulma said, glancing back at her daughter.

“Like… a tournament. A fighting tournament. Just for… you know, the family. Then everyone could fight at their full power. Well. I guess we’d have to not destroy the resort, and all that, but…”

“What?” Bulma said, frowning. “Why would we do that?”

“Well, it would give me experience running a big event,” Bra said, “and if we named it something official-sounding we could put it on my college applications. We could put up a prize and everything! I bet everyone would be happy for a reason to get together again…and you, know, train. Dad always looks so aimless when he doesn’t have something to train for.” He doesn’t care as much about my grades when he’s training, she thought to herself.

Bulma frowned at her daughter.

“Trunks and I will be very busy with the investor meeting,” Bulma started.

Trunks doesn’t even  _ work there _ anymore, Bra thought, rolling her eyes internally. Her mother was determined for Trunks to inherit the company, just as she had been so determined that he would marry Mai… Gross. It was good, sometimes, that she elicited such a low bar of expectations from her parents.

“Right, but the investor meeting is what – a Wednesday? Let’s hold the tournament on a Thursday or Friday. Then people can come in just for that. I could even go to school on Wednesday.”

And, Bra thought, the Beyonci concert is on Saturday. Easy-peasy. Just find a reason to stay in the area an extra day…

“And it’s  _ months _ away, I bet it would give people enough time to let their jobs know… And school, and stuff.”

“Most of us in the group don’t exactly work…” Bulma sighed.

“Well, you do! Krillin does.” Bra said, starting to wave around another sheet of paper. “I even made, like, brackets! Or maybe not ‘brackets’ exactly, but who I think should fight who… We could do a talent portion or something for people who don’t know how to fight. Like Marron.”

Bra offered her mother the list.

“Trunks and Goten, Vegeta and Goku, 18 and… Krillin?” Bulma said, looking over the paper and giving Bra a quizzical look. “I’m not sure that’s fair. 18 would annihilate Krillin.”

“Well, we can smooth out the edges,” Bra said, waving her hand airily.

“You and Pan… Yamcha and Tenshinhan… and… oh.” Bulma said, her eyebrows raising. Hah, thought Bra. She had found the last entry.

“Gotenks against Vegeta  _ and _ Goku,” she read, laughing. 

“Won’t Dad be so irritated?” Bra said, laughing a bit. “Having to fight with Goku?”

“I’m not sure Gotenks is strong enough to take on Goku  _ and  _ Vegeta at the same time,” Bulma said, tapping her chin. “Maybe they could take turns… Those two haven’t become Gotenks in quite a while…”

“Doesn’t it sound fun? We could have a party, cater it, that sort of thing. It would be nice. Like a family reunion. And it would look good on my college applications. I think I might want to be an event planner, anyway, it was really fun helping out with Marron’s birthday party…”

That sealed it, Bra could tell. Her mother was so desperate for her to take some initiative in something that wasn’t lounging on the couch and making sarcastic remarks. It was even truth-adjacent, she told herself: she  _ had _ liked helping out with that birthday party. Specifically the making sarcastic remarks while partying.

“You could even like, do that tax thing. You know. Claim the event is a cultural event… or educational, or something and write it off on the taxes,” Bra continued.

“It’s  _ much _ more complicated than that, Bra,” Bulma said, laughing. “Still. We  _ could  _ maybe raise money for charity through it…”

“You had  _ better _ not just be doing this to get out of school and go to the resort…” Bulma said, wagging a finger at Bra. 

“No, no,” Bra assured her, thinking happily of how  _ excited _ Pan was going to be when she told her they had a way to be in the right part of the country to potentially go to the Beyonci concert. 

“Well, do some research,” Bulma continued. “Make a proposed budget.”

“…What?” Bra asked. “We have like, lots of money, though.” She hadn’t thought about… budgets.

“Bra!” Bulma scolded her. “We do. But an event still needs a budget. Do some research, see how much things cost.”

That reminded Bra of something. 

“Trunks said a while ago that we might become destitute,” she blurted out. Her mother cocked an eyebrow at her. 

“Oh?”

“Something about the board taking over the company…”

“Ah,” Bulma said, flopping back down on the wheeled creeper and sliding back under the ship. “We’d still be rich,” Bulma called out. “We have family money. And I think the board is going to get what’s coming to them at that investor meeting,” Bulma continued over the rattle of her accidentally dropping a bunch of screws. “Oh,  _ damn _ ,” she muttered. “We’ve been working with this nice man, Greg, and we are going to get the company back…”

“So… we’d still be rich, then?” Bra said, hopefully. “Even if you can’t get parts of the company back?”

Bulma slid out from under the ship again, frowning.

“Bra, I really think you are too concerned with money,” Bulma scolded her. 

“Nice shirt that you’re wearing to do messy, sloppy work,” Bra said dryly. “Is it Chanel?”

“Oh, hush,” Bulma said, rolling her eyes and sliding back under the ship. “It’s Dior, anyway,” she muttered to herself as Bra left the room. “Chanel’s for old ladies…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as I've mentioned in these notes before, I'm very poorly versed in canon DBZ/Super/etc.
> 
> But I occasionally watch "clips" on YouTube about characters/pairings I like. And, today, I watched a dubbed clip where Bra is born in Super -- and they really call her Bulla. Pronounced Bu-lla. Not close to Bra at all. I thought Bulla was an Anglicization because l's and r's can be close in Japanese. I guess they thought Bra was too much of a strange/racy name?
> 
> I do confess, I was appalled when I first saw it, and only then "got" the joke that all the Briefs (Briefs) have underwear names. Trunks, Tights, Briefs, etc. I can be a bit slow on the uptake. I assume Bulma is a word for underwear? Or, using the L/R rule, "Burma"? I don't know. (I think in Britian or somewhere they might call underwear Bumma pants? Am I inventing that?)
> 
> But I actually like how Bulla looks better than Bra, and in my first chapter of this I had called Bra Bulla. But, I changed it solely because the A03 system has "Bra" as a taggable character, and I thought "well, that must be what most people use."
> 
> Why didn't they name Bra "Boxer"? What a waste. That would have been a cute name. (Maybe too close to "Trunks.") Then she would be called Boxer Briefs. 
> 
> Also I googled "the name of that thing that mechanics lay on with wheels to slide under cars" and I learned that those "in the trade" call them creepers. The lengths I will go to research for this series, I tell you.


	19. Dating Anyone Lately?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shawn gets ready for her set and is horrified to look like she has accidentally dressed like a scentester kid from the early 2000s. 
> 
> Goten and Trunks get drunk at a restaurant and talk about sex.

“I’ll tell you what, Shawn, the weight gain has made your tits insane,” Lacy said, wiping some stray lipstick off her bottom lip.

“Ugh,” Shawn responded, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Her tits were pretty good, she had to admit. They were very high and pale.

“You could run a credit card through them, they’re so pushed together in that bra,” Lacy continued, studying her. “You should get a necklace with a little charm on it so it hangs in right in your cleavage.”

“Yeah?” Shawn said doubtfully.

“Yeah, it makes men think of how nice it would be to feel in between them,” Lacy said. “Plus, the dumb ones will compliment the necklace, as if that’s what they’re really looking at. It’s funny.”

“Hmm…” Shawn said.

“I have a spare necklace,” Tatiana, a stripper who was rubbing some cocoa butter on her arms, said. “It has a pentagram or something ridiculous on it. From when we did that theme night on Halloween. It would look good with the gothic look you have going on, Shawn.”

“Oh, God, is it gothic?” Shawn asked unhappily, looking down at her outfit, as Tatiana tossed the cheap necklace to Lacy.

“Well, you are wearing fishnets, and black shorts, vest, and bra,” Lacy said cheerily. “Lots of black. Plus the little-vest is kind of gothic, no? Or…  what did we call it in high school? Scene-ster? It’s all very early 2000s…”

“It was scenester,” Tatiana called over. “Give her a fedora and some heavy eyeliner and she’ll look ready to go sneak drinks at a concert at the local YMCA.”

“Ugh,” Shawn sighed. “I need to wear something over the bra, I have _back fat_ spilling out of this bra… and I don’t love how my thighs look without tights or something on them right now…”

“It’s a look,” Lacy cooed sympathetically, dropping the little pentagram pendant in between Shawn’s breasts and doing the clasp. “Look, probably lots of men have fond memories of little goth or scenester girls they wanted to fuck in high school but were too shy. It’ll be fine.”

“Hah-hah,” Shawn said glumly. “I have… friends coming tonight.”

“The cousins?” Lacy asked. “The ones you’re living with?”

“They’re not really cousins,” Shawn said, sighing. “More like… fourth cousins. We’re barely related…”

“So you can flirt with them without it getting weird,” Lacy said, flipping her bright red hair behind her back. “Good. Put on some dark lipstick,” Lacy commanded, rising from her seat and heading out to the bar.

The little dressing room was disgusting. Crushed makeup palates, empty bottles of cocoa butter and lotion everywhere, a pile of worn thongs. Broken ridiculous high heels.

Shawn found a dark lipstick in her kit and applied it, trying not to lean on the counter unnecessarily. It was sticky.

“You look hot, don't worry” Tatiana told her, patting her on the back on her way out, wearing a string bikini.

“I’m going to look like a nun out there compared to everyone else,” Shawn muttered to herself. Even Lacy – who used to wear leggings when performing – had upgraded her look to a small red bikini. She was giving private dances, too. It wasn’t as if Shawn _minded_ that she was giving dances, but… well, she did mind. A little. They were a team, a partnership. Partners who worked in a strip club but didn’t strip.

And now it was just her who didn’t strip. It felt strange.

Even though Lacy had started giving lap dances and wearing skimpier and skimpier performance outfits before Shawn’s performance hiatus, Shawn felt it was her fault. Shawn was the one who had left the business after that horrible night with the mistakes and the blood and the coughing on stage and the hospital bills… Leaving Lacy on her own. She felt… guilty.

She wandered over to the hated bar, the place where she half-hoped that men would approach her (because she could use the money) and half-hoped that men _wouldn’t_ approach her (because they were often very boring, and very drunk).

\--

“Do you think your sister is _fucking_ my niece?” Goten asked a slightly tipsy Trunks. They were at a nicer sushi restaurant a few blocks away from Paradisimo, and were slightly drunk.

Trunks, who had been taking a sip of his martini, (he always drank pretentious drinks, Goten thought, smiling) almost spit it out.

“God, I don’t know,” Trunks laughed. Goten liked seeing him laugh. It was nice. This was nice. “I hope not. They’re so little. God, she is your niece, isn’t she? That’s so fucking weird.”

“It’s not like they can get pregnant,” Goten said, shrugging.

“Can you smell it when people are like… all turned on?” Trunks asked, leaning forward and whispering to him over their table, laden heavily with sushi.

Goten nodded.

“And when they’ve fucked recently.” Goten added.

“Yes! Why have we never talked about this before?!” Trunks exclaimed, slapping the table. “ _How_ have we never talked about it before?”

“I literally thought _everyone_ could,” Goten continued, leaning back. “Like, all humans.”

“Me too! Me too!” Trunks exclaimed. “My Dad thinks Gohan can’t though because he seems to be clueless about Pan and Bra.”

“Oh,” Goten said shrugging. “Well… Gohan has repressed a lot, I think. He’s probably going to lose it one of these days…”

“I could see that,” Trunks said, waving down their waitress and ordering another martini. Goten got another beer.

“Whatever happened to that car you bought?” Goten asked.

“The car _we_ bought, you mean?” Trunks said dryly. “Gotenks was the one who made the purchase.”

“Yeah…” Goten nodded. “Your money, though.”

“It’s always my money,” Trunks mumbled through another bite of sushi. “It’s still in the garage. The car. It’s so shitty with gas mileage I almost never drive it.”

“When did you turn into an old man?” Goten laughed.

Trunks took another bite of food and shrugged.

“You seeing anyone, man?” he said, swallowing. “Dating anyone?”

“Not really,” Goten said, suddenly feeling wary.

“Uh-huh,” Trunks said, nodding. Goten could tell that Trunks didn’t believe him.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone soon,” Trunks said, looking vaguely disappointed.

Goten wasn’t sure when it had happened. When Trunks had started shifting his vocabulary around him.

“Seeing any girls lately?” had become modulated into “Dating anyone lately?” Trunks used to occasionally nudge him and nod towards a particularly skimpily clad woman they passed on the street. No more. Once, while walking somewhere with Goten, Trunks had accidentally bumped into a man who was walking hand-in-hand with another man and Trunks nearly fell over himself being ridiculously kind and respectful to the bewildered gay man. He had started inviting Goten to bars that weren’t _quite_ in the gay district of the city, but were just close enough to have a “mixed” customer base: lots of straight couples, lots of gay couples.

Trunks’s little elaborate fantasy that Goten was gay and in the closet had become even stranger when he had – seemingly out of nowhere – decided that Goten was probably _dating_ someone, secretly. Goten had no idea which spurred that on.

But now when Trunks would call him to ask him to hang out, he would often say one of the following things: (1) “ _Sure_ you don’t want to bring anyone along?” (2) “Are you free tonight? I thought you might be… busy.” And, the worst one, (3) “The bar we’re going to is really open and accepting. Bring anyone you like.”

It was getting unbearable.

But Goten didn’t know what to do about it. How could he explain that he wasn’t gay, well, wasn’t sure about it, but just… that he just didn’t…. well…

Well, _sober_ Goten didn’t know what to do about it.

 _Tipsy_ Goten just wanted to blurt it out.

“I don’t get turned on much,” Goten blurted out, blinking at himself.

“What?” Trunks asked, frowning and setting down his drink.

“I know you think I’m, like… gay,” Goten muttered.

“You’re _not_?” Trunks asked, looking stunned.

“Well… I dunno. I just… don’t get turned on all that much.”

Trunks ate another piece of sushi and studied him.

“If you _are_ gay, I really don’t mind…” Trunks started.

“Oh my _God,_ don’t start,” Goten said, rolling his eyes. “I _know_. You’ve been making that perfectly clear over the past several months. You even changed your profile picture on Spacebook to have that little border about marriage equality.”

“It’s a very important cause,” Trunks said, grinning slightly. “But… well, I didn’t know what to do… I wanted to make sure you… you know…”

“I think there’s something wrong with me.”

“Don’t say that. Maybe you’re just asexual,” Trunks suggested.

“No, I’ve gotten turned on before,” Goten said, shaking his head. “Asexuals _never_ get turned on, right?

“Turned on by…?”

“Fine. By both,” Goten grumbled, taking another swig of his beer. “I _really_ liked that girl in high school, remember? Kathy?”

“I do remember Kathy,” Trunks said solemnly, nodding his head. “I could never forget that eyeliner she was so fond of wearing.”

“I… I don’t know. Thinking about her did it for me, I guess. And then there was a guy who worked at a coffee shop I would go to sometimes, we chatted a lot…”

“What happened to him?” Trunks asked.

“Oh, he moved…”

“Huh,” Trunks said, thoughtfully. “Do you… jack it a lot?”

“Not really,” Goten said, shaking his head. “Only if I’m thinking of someone I like a lot. Or… well…”

“What?” Trunks asked.

“Don’t laugh,” Goten warned, and he could feel himself starting to blush. He really should say. Should he? “I try to… do that, at least once a month or so, or else I start having wet dreams…”

“Once a _month!?_ ” Trunks exclaimed. “Wow.”

“Well…” Goten, said, still blushing. “When I need to do that…”

“What? You like weird porn, or something?”

“I guess so,” Goten said, shrugging.

“What is it?” Trunks asked, looking interested.

“It’s like… smutty writing,” Goten said, after a pause. He wasn’t at the stage yet where he could admit it was, well, fanfiction. It wasn’t his fault. Lots of fanfiction was smutty. And it was free. Some of it was pretty _good_ too, probably not written by… teenagers in basements, or whatever the stereotype was.

“Really!” Trunks said, raising his eyebrows. “Huh. I never got much into that, to tell you the truth. I like to, you know, see things. I thought most men liked to see things. Pictures or porn, or whatever. What kind of stuff is it?”

“Well…” Goten said, hesitatingly, “usually some variation of, like, there’s some event or some chemical or something that forces everyone to get like, insatiably horny. And the ensuing…”

“Madness,” Trunks said dryly. “Yeah. I think I watched a porn with that plot once. It kind of freaked me out.”

“Why?” Goten asked, wondering uneasily if Trunks thought he was a… freak.

“I don’t know. What if you were just sitting around with your _family_ when whatever happens, happens? It’s… weird to think about.”

“Huh,” Goten said, after a moment. “I guess that makes sense. I think… I think I like it because I _don’t…_ you know, get aroused that often. So if there was a switch or a pill or something I could take… I don’t know. It would be easier.”

“Huh,” Trunks said, taking another long swig of his drink. “Well, give it time. Someone might, eventually. Very possibly my mother.”

Goten nodded, eating another piece of sushi.

“How often do you jerk off?” he asked. “I told _you._ ”

“Almost every day, I think. Unless I’m screwing someone regularly.”

“Which is basically all the time, right?” Goten said dryly.

“I haven’t been with someone for a while,” Trunks said, shrugging. “I fooled around with some girl a week or so ago. Ashley. She was okay. But before that it was Ruti, and I haven’t been with her for… oh, a month or so. Maybe more.”

“Do you take girls back to your _house_? With your _parents_ there?”

Trunks made a face and shook his head.

“Sometimes. It’s such a large place, it never felt that weird bringing them back to, you know, “my parents’ house” or whatever. But now Shawn is staying the guest room which is –“

“Practically connected to your room, right?” Goten remembered. “Just through the bathroom?”

“Yeah… so _that’s_ weird,” Trunks said, sighing.

“What kind of porn do you watch?” Goten asked, fascinated.

“Eh, I’m pretty flexible,” Trunks said, thinking. “I look at all sorts of things. I like seeing girls spit after giving head. That can be hard to find, actually, usually it’s all like… coming on the face. And… well… I guess I like watching women struggle taking, you know. Larger men.”

“Because of your Saiyan biology?”

“I guess so…” Trunks said, laughing slightly.

“Has it been a problem, with you?” Goten had heard some jokes made between his mother and Bulma that he was definitely _not_ supposed to hear, which had scarred him for life, made him realize that all Saiyan men were very well-endowed, and that this could actually be a problem for the poor women involved.

“Um,” Trunks said, scratching his chin. “Girls often don’t want to give me head, I guess. Or at least they can’t, you know. Go very deep. But for other stuff, no, you just have to start slow. Unless they’re stressed out or tense or something.”

“Why does that matter?” Goten asked. This was turning out to be very educational.

“Oh…” Trunks said, suddenly looking bashful for some reason. He leaned forward again. “People don’t talk about this – I have no idea why – but when girls get turned on and are relaxed and stuff, they don’t just get, you know, wet, but they kind of… stretch out. They get like a reverse erection.”

“That can’t be true,” Goten said, laughing.

“It is true! It is! People just don’t talk about it!” Trunks cried, laughing again. “I don’t know why. But yeah. They need to be kind of…” Trunks gestured with his now empty martini glass, “warmed up. Feel… safe.”

He set the glass down.

“Well,” he said, waving over the waitress to bring them the check. “I guess now is as good a time as any to go see some strippers, huh?”

The waitress, hearing that, gave them a nasty look as she dropped off the check.


	20. A Pretty Thin Grasp of Earthling Currency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trunks and Goten hang out at the strip club.
> 
> We learn a ridiculous story about Vegeta, also that he doesn't understand credit cards.

The cold air felt good on Trunks’s face as they walked to Paradisimo. He was always vaguely aware he would look like some sort of creepy man at strip clubs, so had thrown on a sport coat before leaving. Goten wasn’t wearing one – he was just in jeans and a tee-shirt – and now Trunks wondered if it looked like he was trying too hard.

Part of it was the hair, he thought. His hair _always_ made him look like he tried too hard. He couldn’t help it, though, that it was straight and didn’t have that rumpled, sticking-up-straight look that was typical of Saiyan males.

Well. He didn’t really have to grow it out, use the expensive keratin-infused shampoo and conditioner, and carefully comb it every morning, but… well, so he liked to look put together. He liked the way his hair looked. So what. So it wasn’t particularly “masculine” but…

It had been a shock to realize that Shawn spent a fair amount of time on her appearance as well. She was even vainer about her hair than he was about his. She spent hours, it seemed, rubbing conditioner in it, diffusing it, and occasionally putting it up in complicated-looking braids and buns.

That, for some reason, made Trunks feel better about his own vanity. Even _she_ was vain. The strange, vaguely ugly, long-nosed circus performer spent a lot of time staring at her appearance.

They had fought and made up yesterday. They fought almost every day, it seemed.

“No, this is wrong, Shawn, you have to follow the order of operations…”

“Oh,” Shawn had said, looking embarrassed and confused. “Even for this problem? It has a negative sign in it… so I thought….”

Trunks had been so confused by the question he had… well, he had laughed at her.

“What?! It’s _math_ , Shawn, the rules don’t just change randomly…”

“Don’t talk to me like a child,” Shawn had snapped. “I’m _not_ that dumb.”

And then, he had done the bad thing, he had raised an eyebrow at her and said, “Is that right?” He had been hoping to sound ironic and kind of cool but as soon as he saw her face he realized it hadn’t been the right thing to do.

“Listen, you horrible man,” she had hissed at him, leaning forward, “Not everyone was able to go to your fancy-shmancy private school with tutors, and computers, and after-school clubs! When I was sixteen, I was _working_ full-time –“

“In a _circus_ ,” Trunks had said, his cheeks getting hot.

“It was _still_ work!” Shawn had said through gritted teeth. “Whereas you are a grown-ass man and _still_ don’t work, you just sort of flit around the place, spending your mother’s money!”

That had irritated Trunks. He slammed the book shut and given Shawn a _lot_ of homework and then left her bedroom.

Trunks had stewed in his room for a few hours, uncomfortably remembering that he _might_ have told Shawn “so, here, for this problem, you have to use PEMDAS” which did sound like there _were_ mathematical equations that didn’t use PEMDAS. And she had actually picked up trigonometry pretty fast, considering. Well. Okay. “Fast” might be an overstatement, she still had trouble understanding exponents.

He had wandered out into the kitchen, following Shawn’s scent. She was squinting unhappily at a package of frozen edamame.

“What are you making?” he had asked her, his hands in his pockets, trying to seem casual.

“Oh…” she said, startled at seeing him. “Soybeans, I think these are. I’m trying to eat more protein and lose some weight… get in shape…”

“Let me know if you ever want to work out together,” Trunks had suggested. She had smiled at him, a little tight-lipped smile.

“I have a trainer,” she had said. “A blockhead I’m going to start performing with.”

“Oh,” Trunks had said, feeling confused. “You… don’t like him?”

“No, he’s great… oh. Blockheads are people who, you know. Pound nails into their noses. Into their sinuses. Do you think I could just microwave these soybeans or do you think I really need to boil them? I don’t want to get a pot dirty just for _soybeans_ …”

And Trunks had pressed her, and listened in horrified fascination about people who appeared to be smashing nails into their skulls, but were instead carefully placing the nail into their sinus cavity.

For some reason, hearing about nails and sinus cavities had caused Trunks to feel a rush of admiration for Shawn. He wasn’t sure why.

“You’re smart,” he had muttered, after hearing that. “Very smart. You’ll get your GED in no time.”

“Oh…” Shawn had said, a grin spreading over her face. “Thanks. I don’t think it’s bad you’re not working right now,” she continued. “I think the over-valorization of work is a way for the upper classes to keep the lower classes down by implying the only way to salvation is through labor.”

“Uh… what?” Trunks had asked, blinking.

“Do you want to make brownies with me?” Shawn asked, suddenly. “I don’t think these soybeans will fill me up. It’s a ‘keto’ recipe. Low carb, high fat, high protein. Probably disgusting. Could be… you know. Fun. Plus I don’t really know how to use your oven. You could… help.”

And then they had stood in the kitchen for almost two hours, making brownies that were, all in all, pretty disgusting. They still ate them, though. It had been… nice. Fun. She was kind of interesting to be around. She knew all sorts of strange things, and none of the normal things most people knew.

Like how to make frozen vegetables. Or how to use an oven.

  
He pondered all of this as they entered the foyer of the strip club, paid the cover fee to the smiling blonde woman who tried to upsell them, and wandered into the club.

He needn’t had worried about his appearance, he thought when he walked in and glanced around. The customers seemed very varied – a group of loud women who were apparently at a bachelorette party, lots of quiet businessmen wearing suits, drunk men in jeans, and even a shy-looking straight couple. It was clean, dimly lit, with maroon and red cushions everywhere.

“There’s Shawn,” Goten said, nodding towards a bar to the left of the (currently empty) stage. And there she was, her hair trailing down her back, one of her hands playing with the lip of the glass in front of her. That looked very interesting, for some reason. Trunks wondered if the glass was cold, if it felt cold on her forefinger.

They wandered over towards her.

Goten convivially patted her on the back as they approached.

It had been a mistake, as Shawn whipped around and knocked Goten’s hand away from her in one fast, fluid movement. A millisecond later, the bartender – a man with about a hundred facial tattoos and several lip piercings – was leaning over the bar at them, scolding.

“No touching,” he said. “The girls can touch you, you can’t touch them. Unless they say you can.”

“It’s okay, Ellis,” Shawn said, and Trunks could see they had really alarmed her, she was breathing a little fast. “These are those friends I was telling you about.”

“Oh man, I’m so sorry,” Goten said, blushing. “I didn’t meant to…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Shawn said, smiling (although the smile didn’t quite extend to her eyes, Trunks noticed). “But yeah. Don’t touch people here without, like, warning them.”

“Understood,” Goten said, nodding.

“This is, um, Ellis,” Shawn said, gesturing towards the bartender. “I perform with him sometimes. The blockhead.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of that,” Goten said, accepting the hand Ellis extended towards him and shook it. “With the nails, right?”

“Yep,” Ellis said, smiling, the tattoos on his face contorting strangely as he did so. “And my wife is Lacy, the fire-eater and fire-breather. She’s over there. With the tattoo of Jupiter on her back.”

He nodded over to a little cluster of chairs where a very thin and short woman with short, unnaturally red hair was sitting next to a tired-but-happy-looking businessman. Her right leg was flung over his lap, and he was running his fingers up and down her inner thigh. Trunks blinked, he wouldn’t want _his_ girlfriend, let alone wife, let someone else touch her leg like that.

“Goten,” Goten said, nodding to Trunks. “And this is Trunks.”

“What can I get you, then?”

“A gin and tonic,” Trunks said, feeling a martini was too… prissy, or something, here. Although maybe the drink famous for being the Queen of England’s favorite drink wasn’t very masculine either.

“Budweiser,” Goten said, always effortlessly masculine. Trunks didn’t care for beer. Strange that Goten was the one who had once had a crush on a man and didn’t jerk off much, Trunks thought, sliding into the barstool next to Shawn.

“And what about you, Shawn,” Trunks said, nodding towards her empty glass. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Thanks.” Shawn said, sliding her nearly empty glass back to Ellis. “A Diet Coke.”

“Oho, just a Diet Coke?” Ellis said, winking at her. “She likes you two.”

“I usually don’t drink before I perform,” Shawn explained, grinning a bit. “But I’ll usually order a _drink_ drink, because it’s what people expect. And then Ellis pretends to make it, but then gives the shot to another girl who wants it or takes it himself. But I won’t swindle you out of the extra zeni.”

“Shawn!” Goten said, all mock indignation, taking a sip of his beer. “You _thief_!”

“Hah,” Shawn said, crossing her long legs. They were in fishnets. When she crossed her legs, the fishnets dug into her flesh on part of her leg. Trunks wondered if there were little crisscross indentations on her legs when she took off her fishnets. She saw him looking. “Don’t look at the fat spilling out of my tights, you weirdo,” she scolded him, shifting in her seat. She looked embarrassed. She was worried about her weight, he remembered. He didn’t really understand why. She was big, but she seemed to be mostly muscle and bone, like a linebacker.

“It doesn’t look bad,” Trunks said, laughing slightly. “Don’t worry so much.”

“I’m _not_ worrying too much,” Shawn snapped, blushing slightly.

“That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all week,” Ellis said dryly, tapping the top of the bar. “You do worry, Shawn.”

“Well,” Shawn said, sitting up straighter and turning slightly away from Trunks and towards Goten.

Jesus, her tits looked good, Trunks thought as she asked Goten where they had gone before this. You could barely slide a finger in between them they were pushed so close together. Or… anything else someone might put in between tits. Hmm. Why on Earth didn’t her tits look that good all the time? Maybe she had those… silicone things in the bottom of her bra. Chicken cutlets, people called them jokingly.

“They had good sushi,” Goten was saying. “The chicken teriyaki we tried wasn’t that good, though.”

“Hmm…” Shawn said, playing with a piece of her hair. “I’ve never been there.”

“We talked about what porn we liked and the table next to us overheard,” Goten said, laughing slightly. “They had a baby. They kept glaring at us.”

“They _did_?!” Trunks exclaimed, blushing. “I didn’t notice.”

“Yeah, it was pretty funny,” Goten chortled. “Oh come on,” he continued, when he saw Trunks’s face, “it was a _baby_ -baby. It couldn’t understand.”

“Hmm,” Shawn said, grinning and taking a sip of her drink. “Is that what guys talk about when they are alone together? Talk about what porn they like? Well? Any surprises? Anything weird?”

“I usually read stuff,” Goten said, shrugging, and Trunks wondered how drunk he was that he was so easily sharing this with Shawn. Or maybe he just felt… comfortable with Shawn. It was only them and Shawn now, Ellis having wandered over to the other side of the bar and started chatting to another girl wearing a bikini, sitting alone. Or, maybe now that he had told one person, telling a second wasn’t so bad. It was like that, a lot. “Is that strange, do you think? Trunks said most men like to see stuff.”

“I didn’t mean you were strange!” Trunks exclaimed.

“I’ve heard that too,” Shawn said, shrugging. “But there’s nothing wrong with reading stuff. I read smut too, sometimes.” She took another little sip of her drink. “And you, Trunks? What are you into?”

“Um,” Trunks said, feeling foolish. “Just… normal stuff.”

“Uh-huh,” Shawn said dryly.

“Well, what do _you_ like?” Trunks asked, laughing slightly. “I bet you won’t tell me.”

“Oho,” Shawn said, laughing. “If I tell you mine, tell me yours. And yours, Goten.”

“K,” Goten said, peering at his now-empty beer bottle.

Trunks felt like his shirt collar was a bit too tight.

Shawn, after being all bravado a second before, suddenly seemed a little nervous.

“Well,” she said, licking her bottom lip nervously, “I usually watch kind of role-play-ey stuff. I think there’s a stereotype that women like that.”

“Like what?” Goten asked.

“Oh, you know. Doctor/patient, secretary/businessman, student/teacher, whatever.”

“Little plaid skirts, that kind of thing?” Goten said, grinning. “I get it.”

“I know,” Shawn said, laughing. “I don’t like it when they look too young, though. They need to look clearly like twenty or thirty-somethings wearing school uniforms. I think the… school fascination is because I never went to, you know, school.”

“Well, you’re kind of in school now. Trunks is your teacher,” Goten said, giggling.

Trunks felt himself blushing more. He could hit Goten.

“Yeah, well,” Shawn said, laughing slightly, and Trunks could see a slight blush spreading over her upper breasts and creeping towards her neck. “ _I’m_ not a little schoolgirl. I don’t wear plaid skirts.”

“No you do not,” Trunks agreed, his mind wandering to… places.

“Oh!” Goten cried, all openness and cheeriness, “Vegeta said you liked pain. Is that true?”

Shawn blinked at him.

There was no heat in Goten’s voice, no trembling anxiety, no embarrassment, no desire… nothing. He sounded like someone genuinely interested in Shawn’s sex life, because it was interesting.

“You don’t have to say,” Trunks laughed slightly. “Goten’s pretty tipsy…”

“I guess,” Shawn said, shrugging. “I do slap myself on the face when I’m… you know. Pull my hair, sometimes. Pretend it’s someone else.”

“Really?” Goten asked, surprised. “On the _face_?”

“Yeah,” Shawn said, shrugging, looking like she wanted to change the subject. “All right, boys. Your turn.”

Goten explained his weird… chemical fetish, or whatever, while Trunks half-listened, half-thought about slapping Shawn on the face, leaning her over the little desk in her room and forcing her jeans down around her knees. Fumbling with his belt, he could pull her hair and she would – what? Scream? Moan? Sigh? Murmur how nice Trunks was, what a good teacher he was, how she wanted him from the moment she saw him?

“What?” Trunks said stupidly when he realized the two were looking at him expectantly. “Oh…”

Haltingly, he recited what kind of porn he liked to watch. When he got to the… big dick, thing, Goten chimed in explaining that Saiyan men have extremely long penises, and recounted a half-joke/half-anecdote that Trunks’s _mother_ had apparently told Chi-Chi. It was _very_ dirty. And… gross. It involved shit. Jesus Christ, was it horrifying.

“Jesus, Goten!” Trunks cried, putting his head in his hands.

“Oh my God,” Shawn said, laughing, and Trunks was dimly aware through his embarrassment that he had never seen her laugh so hard. “Oh my _God.”_

“I felt like it was high time I stop being the only one scarred for life,” Goten said, laughing. “I couldn’t look at my Dad for weeks after I heard that.”

“He was _there?_ For _weeks_?” Trunks asked, all mock shock.

Goten burst out laughing. “Oh, it’s funny because it’s true,” he said, wiping tears away from his eyes.

“Ugh, he was not… the perfect father, that’s for sure.”

“And you’re talking to someone who has _Vegeta_ as a father. A man who becomes worryingly interested in when his daughter is menstruating and forces her to eat lots of bloody food.” Shawn said, dryly. She had looked so shocked when she was finally told why Trunks’s father had been strong-arming Bra to eat _liver_ the other day.

“Oh my God!” Goten cried, almost reaching out to grab Shawn’s shoulder for emphasis, but remembering just in time and instead awkwardly slapping the bar. “I have the fucking _funniest_ story about Vegeta. I cannot _believe_ I never told you this.”

Trunks listened in fascinated horror.

The story, apparently, was told to Goten by Gohan. When Pan was around 12, Vegeta started coming around occasionally, bringing… gifts. Hot chocolate made with dark chocolate, steaks, liver. This had completely perplexed Gohan – where was he _buying_ these things? (At the best of times Vegeta had a pretty thin grasp of Earth currency, once famously going through a two-week period where he thought he had to _give_ the charge cards Bulma finally got in his name to the cashier and just leave, as if it was cash. Bulma had to replace ten cards before she realized.) Why was he visiting, suddenly, so regularly?

And then, finally Gohan had gathered up the courage to ask Vegeta what the hell was with all the liver – no one even _liked_ liver – and Vegeta had finally told him that there was a superstition of Saiyan women needing lots of iron during their period. Or else they would become “weak.”

“And then—“ Goten said, wiping away tears from his eyes, “Gohan said, ‘Well, wait, how do you know when my daughter’s _menstruating_?’ and, you know, Vegeta said, ‘blah blah I can smell it, pure Saiyan genes Prince of All Saiyans bullshit’—“

“What?!” Shawn exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Goten nodded. “Can you not? Smell it? On other people?”

“No!” Shawn said, looking horrified.

“It doesn’t smell bad, really, it’s fine, you can still,” Goten laughed slightly, “be around us when you have your period, it’s fine. But anyway! Back to the story…

“So, Gohan was like ‘um, ok, cool cool cool, but you don’t see my daughter that often. Are you like… sneaking around and sniffing her?’ and Vegeta confessed he had been _tracking it_ on a little calendar like a high school girl.”

“Oh my God,” Trunks said, laughter bubbling out of him. “Oh my _God_. You are kidding.”

“No, I’m serious as a heart attack,” Goten cried, wiping tears from his eyes.

“He forgot _my birthday_ once,” Trunks said, aghast. “But he could keep track of when someone he wasn’t even _related to_ was _menstruating_?”

“And we _all_ know he habitually forgets his anniversary,” Goten said, still chuckling. “Bulma makes sure we _all_ hear about it.” He nodded towards Shawn, who was looking shocked and, to be honest, a little grossed-out.

“You know what this means, Shawn?”

“What? That he’s going to force me to eat liver when I’m menstruating?”

“Well, yes,” Goten said, “But if you’re still hanging around with us and ever get pregnant I one-hundred-percent-fucking- _guarantee_ it Vegeta will be weird and protective as fuck of you.”

“Oh, I doubt it,” Shawn said, as Trunks realized that Goten was absolutely correct. “He doesn’t even seem to _like_ me much…”

“But you’re a part- _Saiyan_ woman,” Goten said, shrugging. “The oldest, too, now, weirdly. I’ll bet you a thousand zeni that if you get pregnant and you’re still hanging around us he’ll force you to do something weird.”

“Like… Saiyan Lamaze classes?” Shawn said, smiling.

“Probably,” Goten said. “Or he’ll, like, repeatedly punch your belly or something. Or force you to eat like twenty-five tomatoes a day.”

“Are you pregnant, Shawn?” A voice said from behind them. “Why are you talking about Lamaze classes?”

“Hi, Lacy,” Shawn said, setting down her drink. “Nope, not pregnant. These are the... fourth cousins, or whatever, I told you about. Goten,” she said, nodding towards Goten, “and Trunks.”

“Uh-huh,” Lacy said, leaning a hand on Trunks’s shoulder. Trunks did remember her, vaguely, from that birthday party that seemed so long ago. He had kept slipping money in her bra and laughing. She was very... _hot_ in a way Trunks couldn’t put his finger on why. Confidence, maybe? Confidence plus a very small bikini plus _very_ high shoes? You just sort of… found yourself looking at her, thinking about fucking her. “Come on, Shawn, we have to go get ready for our set.”

“Already?” Shawn asked, surprised.

“You’ve been yukking it up for a while,” Lacy said, smiling and rolling her eyes. “Now, let the nice men _tip you_ for your time and let’s go set up.”

“Oh,” Trunks said, remembering. He fumbled with his wallet and grabbed several bills, extending them to Shawn.

“Oh come _on,_ ” Lacy said, slapping Trunks playfully on the shoulder. “Remember where you are! Slip it into between those tits of hers…”

“Oh, Lacy…” Shawn said, making a face and grabbing the cash. “It’s weird.”

“Oh, fine, fine,” Lacy said, smiling slightly and ruffling Trunks’s hair. “Better luck next time, playboy.”

\--

“Stop sulking,” Lacy commanded.

“I’m _not_ sulking,” Shawn mumbled, rubbing Listerine on her swords.

“You are.”

“Were you… flirting with him? Trunks?”

“No,” Lacy said.

“You _ruffled_ his hair,” Shawn said through gritted teeth. “They’re _my friends_ , my… _relatives,_ can’t you just… _not_ for like two seconds?”

“Aw,” Lacy said, picking up and casually swinging one of her unlit torches. “Huh.”

“ _What?_ ” Shawn demanded, hating Lacy, hating herself.

“You didn’t see his face when I suggested he put that cash in your tits, my dear. He wants to fuck you.”

“No, he _doesn’t,_ ” Shawn spat.

“He does. You probably should, too. This whole little twenty-eight-year-old virgin thing is getting a bit old. I think you’re sort of… building up the whole sex thing in your mind. I bet you’ll feel better about yourself if you just…”

“Have some anonymous sex?” Shawn interrupted sarcastically.

Lacy laughed, giving her a little look.

“No,” she said. “But sleeping with someone you respect, you’re friendly with, who respects you, might be… good for you. You don’t have feelings for him, or anything, right? You said he was… what was it? Lazy, or something. An underdeveloped man-child who still lives at home. So? No harm.”

“Yeah…” Shawn said, sighing. “I’ll… think about it.”

“OK. Well, let’s go have a good show, K?”

“…OK,” Shawn grumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to my amazing beta reader, DianaEFox! 
> 
> Thanks so much to those who are commenting - it means a lot! I do watch the "kudos" numbers and they have really plateaued, so I often wonder if you 65 people are "it" the only people who will ever read this. And some of those "kudos-ers" probably never will return to it. So it seems a little silly, though. But then I get COMMENTS! Amazing ones! 
> 
> I read somewhere about sword swallowers rubbing their swords with Listerene before a show, I didn't invent that. 
> 
> Information about Human Blockheads: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Human_Blockhead
> 
> (Human Blockheads, Fire Breathers, and Sword Swallowers are like the major 'dangerous' sideshow acts.)
> 
> My husband has twirled fire in the past (it is not very dangerous) and looked into fire-breathing but it was too dangerous (you can get blowback) :-(


	21. This Had Been A Long Shower.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bra and Vegeta chat.
> 
> Trunks takes a shower and Shawn accidentally interrupts him.

Bra wandered out of her bedroom and towards the kitchen. If she didn’t get some ice cream, she might very well die.

That would be better.

She opened the freezer and evaluated her options. Mint chocolate chip it was, she thought. Maybe the mint would be… soothing.

She heard the television on in the living room. Peeling off the top of the ice cream container and sticking a spoon in it, she headed towards it. Maybe talking to someone would be… nice.

It was her father, watching… men’s gymnastics. Huh.

“Hi,” Bra said, flopping down on the couch next to her father and taking a large bite of ice cream.

“Go get me a spoon,” Vegeta commanded. “That looks good. I’m hungry.”

Bra sighed and went to get him another spoon.

“Do you watch gymnastics a lot?” She asked him, flinging the spoon at him and flopping down.

“Eh,” her father grunted while possessively diving his spoon into the ice cream container. “Sometimes. They’re pretty strong. For Earthlings.”

“Yeah,” Bra agreed, watching a leotard-wearing man spin around on a gymnastic horse, supported only by his hands.

“I was watching the female version of this,” Vegeta continued, taking another bite of ice cream, “And a human woman broke her ankle and continued her… performance or whatever. Looked painful.”

“Shawn does some of this stuff,” Bra said. “Flips and all that. Tumbling.”

“Not like this, though, I bet. Still. That’s probably why her shoulders are so large,” Vegeta said.

“Yeah,” Bra agreed, staring at the TV.

They sat in silence for many minutes.

“Did you ever like anyone before Mom?” Bra asked, finally.

“Yes,” Vegeta said, eating another bite of ice cream.

Silence.

“Who was she?”

“One of Freeza’s officers. Sheirah.”

“Did you _date_ her?” Bra asked, fascinated.

“No.” Vegeta said shortly.

“Why not?” Bra pressed.

“She was much older than me. I was young. Your age, maybe younger. She was about Trunks’s or Shawn’s age. It was an infatuation. Freeza killed her for insubordination, anyway.”

“Oh,” Bra said, looking down at the almost-empty container of ice cream.

“I was so angry when Freeza killed her. I thought I was going to die. Or kill everyone else in the galaxy.”

“Pan’s going on a date with some _guy_ ,” Bra mumbled, kind of hating herself for bringing up. What would her dad do? Get all… weird? Sappy? Emotional?

“That right?” Vegeta asked calmly, his eyes never leaving the television screen.

“Yes,” Bra said gloomily.

They watched an extremely muscular man do a complicated-looking series of backflips.

“Your mother dated many, many men before she met me,” Vegeta said. “Even a few when she was pregnant with Trunks.”

“I didn’t know that,” Bra said, startled. “I thought she just kind of… pined for you. Waited.”

Vegeta barked out a little laugh.

“Really? Your mother? Pine? No.”

He reached out and scratched Bra behind the ear, as if she were a dog. He did that occasionally, with her and Trunks. It must be a Saiyan thing.

“I missed your mother, though.” Vegeta said.

“But _you_ left,” Bra snapped. She had always held a kind-of juvenile rage at her father for leaving, for abandoning Trunks and her mother as soon as she had found out about it. “You didn’t try to save them when they almost died when you _did_ come back!”

Vegeta shrugged.

“Still missed her.”

Bra mulled this over while inspecting her spoon.

“Did you and Pan have a… an arrangement?” Vegeta said.

“An arrangement?”

“Is she cheating on you? If she is, I’ll beat up Gohan if you like. Or Kakarot, although the _father_ is more traditional… Kakarot would be more of a challenge, though.”

“Oh.” Bra said, blinking. “Um… thanks. No… we’re not… dating or anything. We sort of… kissed. But I told her it was like just to practice, or something. So we could be better at it, when we finally met boys we liked.”

“Uh-huh,” Vegeta said. He didn’t seem shocked. He didn’t seem… grossed out. Embarrassed on behalf of her. It was almost as if she had just confessed to something completely normal and benign, like telling someone you liked their new haircut when you really hated it.

Another long pause as they watched a commercial for deodorant.

“Before I slept with your mother the first time, I told her not to get ‘any ideas.’” Vegeta said finally, his voice sounding far away. “Even though I was already… having ideas about her.”

“Mmm,” Bra said, sighing, leaning her head on her hands. She thought most teens would be startled to hear that statement, "the first time I slept with your mother," so casually. But everyone knew how her parents' relationship had started, with an impulsive one-night-stand. Which produced Trunks.

“Just use the sadness in your training,” Vegeta continued, clearing his throat. “It can be a real asset. Make you stronger.”

“Ugh,” Bra said, sliding down the couch. “Always you and training. I never feel like training when I’m sad. I just want to lie around and eat things.”

“That’s what your mother does when she’s sad.” Vegeta said, scratching her behind the ear again. “Don’t get crumbs in your bed. We’ll get bugs.”

\--

Hours later, when the rest of the house was asleep, Trunks and Shawn returned home.

Trunks had trouble with the lock, which caused them both to giggle. They weren’t drunk, on the sober-er edge of tipsy, but Shawn still felt exuberantly giggly. It had been a fun night. Goten and  Trunks had stayed for all the shows that evening, buying her real drinks after the final one. They had talked to Lacy and Ellis quite a bit, and Shawn had been relieved that Lacy had kept her hands to herself.

It had been nice. Fun. She had liked knowing that Trunks’s eyes were on her as she performed.

She had bought Trunks a dance with Tatiana.

She hadn’t been sure why she had done it, except she knew that Tatiana was having a slow night and that she got the sense that Trunks was very deliberately trying _not_ to ogle the strippers around her.

That had… made her feel a little uncomfortable, although she hadn’t been able to put her finger on why. She wanted to prove something to herself, she supposed. That she didn’t _mind_ if Trunks looked at other girls. Sure, she minded when _Lacy_ flirted with him, but that was just because _Lacy_ was always kind of… swooping in and flirting with anyone.

She did like Trunks. She knew that. She wasn’t _that_ self-unaware.

But she didn’t think she liked him _that_ much. She wasn’t stupid. There couldn’t be a future there. He was… too good-looking, too rich, too snobby. Too anxious about himself. Took himself too seriously.

He had plenty of bad qualities, and Shawn tried to concentrate on them.

What Lacy had told her about having a… fling with Trunks had been… a thought. But she couldn’t try that if she really _liked_ him, if she “caught feelings for him” as she had heard Bra say dismissively the other day about one of her friends. She had some feelings for him already, sure, but they weren’t _serious_ feelings, surely? Just little, minor feelings? She could _definitely_ have a fling with him, right?

It was a little confusing. She maybe was just trying to trick herself because she just really wanted to fuck him.

He could annoy her, though, as he had done after she had bought her the dance.

“Do you... want to come with me? For the dance?” Trunks had asked her.

“No.” Why would I? Shawn had wondered. To see how much more attractive Tatiana was than her?

Later, Lacy had told her that he had probably wanted to see her all rubbed up against Tatiana, that thinking that he asked her to sit in a small cramped booth with a stripper didn’t mean that he was trying to _humiliate_ her but that instead he was trying to finagle his way into a sexual experience with her.

“Have you considered seeing a therapist?” Lacy had said, enraged. “For _God’s sake,_ Shawn. This self-hatred of yours is getting tiring.”

“Well… good night then,” Trunks said, walking her to her bedroom door.

“Good night,” Shawn said, smiling at him.

He leaned against the doorframe, one hand above his head, his forearm touching the top of the door. It made him look larger than her.

“This was fun,” he said, lazily looking at her.

“Yeah,” Shawn agreed, suddenly feeling awkward. “Well… see you tomorrow.”

“See you,” Trunks agreed, returning to his room.

Shawn laid on the bed and put her headphones in and started listening to some music.

She didn’t really want to hit on Trunks. She couldn’t handle the potential for rejection.

Still, though. Part of her thought that Lacy probably was right, that he _did_ desire her. But that was a frightening thought, and it terrified Shawn so much she locked it down as soon as she admitted it to herself.

Better just to keep touching herself.

Or she could probably find someone else to sleep with. Lacy and Ellis were always willing to have a “guest star,” as they often reminded her. But that seemed strange, too. Still. Maybe it was time.

Shawn dozed off for a few minutes, and woke up, startled. She had been having a weird dream. Vegeta had been beating her up.

Huh. Well.

She probably shouldn’t try to sleep with someone in the household. It wouldn’t be smart. She’d think about Lacy and Ellis, though… Eh, maybe it’d be too weird…

She hopped off her bed, and headed towards the bathroom, needing to brush her teeth and wash her face.

She knew something was wrong as soon as she opened the bathroom door. There was steam. But her feet hadn’t been quite quick enough to catch up with her mind, the music in her ears, fading tipsiness, and moody thoughts making her sluggish.

She was standing at the bathroom countertop looking in the mirror when she realized Trunks was in the shower. He had forgotten to lock her door. She whipped around, pulling the earbuds out of her ears, and saw… Trunks. Looking blankly at her, his dick in his hand.

“Uh…” Shawn said, “I’m… I’m sorry…” She was aware she should leave, leave immediately, that most people would have rushed out of the bathroom immediately upon realizing their mistake, and wouldn’t keep… looking at… _it._ But it looked… nice. Big. She had never seen anyone in porn with purple pubic hair before.

Trunks blinked at her.

“Do… do you want to help?” he asked, sounding bewildered and… hopeful? Surprised? Confused? Shawn couldn’t tell.

“Uh…” Shawn said.

Well, fuck it. They didn’t have to have sex, right? She could just… touch him, suck him? That wouldn’t be too… emotional and frightening, right? She wanted to know what he felt like in her hands and in her mouth… wanted to touch that dusting of purple hair on his pelvic bone.

“Can I suck it?” she blurted out, feeling idiotic as soon as she said it. Smooth, Shawn, she thought. Someone cooler than her would have sauntered over been a little more _discreet…_ more confident, more… femme fatale.

“Uh-huh,” Trunks mumbled, nodding, licking his lips, eyes wide. “Yeah.”

\--

Shawn entered the shower, tentatively.

“Your clothes are getting wet,” Trunks muttered. “You can… take them off.”

“No thanks,” Shawn said, shaking her head. “I’m good.”

Trunks watched, breathing heavily, as the little vest she was wearing turned a darker shade of black as it got wetter. Water was getting in between her breasts and her bra cups, she looked… slippery all over. Her hair… oh. Her hair was stretching out as it got wetter, becoming longer again.

She tentatively stroked him and he moved forward to kiss her.

She leaned back at him, frowning.

“No thanks,” she repeated.

“Okay,” Trunks said, breathily, swallowing hard. God, she looked fucking hot, her clothes all wet and sticking to her. Some of her mascara was running and even _that_ looked good. And she was _frowning_ at him slightly as her fingers gently touched above his member, touching his pubic hair.

“Don’t be gentle,” she muttered. “Be as rough as you want. Just… tell me if I’m doing this wrong. I’ve never… you know. I’m inexperienced in this stuff.”

“Are you… a virgin?” Trunks gasped, he stomach clenching as she knelt down in front of him.

“ _Don’t_ tease me,” Shawn muttered.

He hadn’t been, he had been thinking about how tight she might be, how she might squirm as he entered her the first time. Yikes, that was… Jesus. Maybe this wasn’t real. Could this be real?

“Oh, Shawn,” he gasped, as she took the tip of him in her mouth, gently, tentatively, licking his head. God, this felt good.

She frowned again, looking up at him. She released him from her mouth, his cock popping out of her.

“No, thank you,” she said again, shaking her head. “Don’t say my name. Just… please... be rough.”

So… polite, Trunks thought, staring at her. All pleases and thank yous. And with a little irritated look on her face that was _very_ attractive, in a way.

She placed her mouth over him again and, awkwardly grabbed one of his hands and put it on the back of her head and pressed down on top of it, forcing him to push her deeper.

Oh, _shit,_ Trunks thought as she took her hand away and he started pressing her down his shaft. She was already taking him farther than anyone else had. No gag reflex, he thought, dully. Was that right? Or did she just like feeling slightly uncomfortable?

“Fuck,” he moaned, and she rewarded him by giving him a little look. He shuddered when her dark eyes met his. “Fuck,” he gasped again, pushing her down tentatively.

She grabbed his other hand and forced it into her hair. He tugged at a fistful of her hair, slowly rocking his hips back and forth in her. She let out a little muffled sigh when he did so, and he started squeezing the fistful of hair, not pulling it, pausing to stroke it, admiring how slimy and wet it was, how thick it felt.

She pulled back, he let the hand on the back of her head fall limp as she glared up at him. God, she looked annoyed. But he still felt a little rush of pleasure rush up his spine when her eyes met his.

“Be _rougher,_ if you can, please,” she muttered. “I don’t want this to be… sappy. I’m... going to dig my fingernails into you if you’re too sappy.”

She took him in her mouth again and placed her hands, ever so gently, near his waist. Then she dug her fingernails in. Not so gentle.

“Jesus,” Trunks breathed, pushing her head down. The fingernails still dug in. He pushed her down farther, starting to move his hips faster. The fingernails became looser.

“You like it?” He asked her, his voice raspy, pushing her down so far he finally heard a little gagging sound. “You like taking my cock all the way?”

No fingernails.

“I can’t imagine this is really your first time,” Trunks continued, moving faster. “You're too good at this. You’re probably a little whore, aren’t you? Cock-starved.”

She looked at him again, those eyes meeting his, and Trunks could tell she was smiling – smiling as much as she could, anyway.

“You like that?” he muttered, allowing himself to fuck her face even faster. He had never done this so intensely with anyone before, it had always seemed… violent. He hadn't thought anyone would like it... It _felt_ violent, kind of, but… it was… well, _she_ liked it, didn’t she? “You like it when I call you my little slut? God, you take it so _fucking_ well…”

Licking his lips, he held her head with both hands now, shielding her from the back of the shower wall, which he had been pushing her towards. He could smell her getting more turned on. She was probably getting wetter… Fuck. She looked at him.

God, those eyes were incredible. He hadn’t really noticed them before, but they were… nice. Brown. They sent little chills down his spine. Her pale skin, the tops of those breasts, that _hair,_ that ridiculous hair...

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he gasped, staring at her. Fingernails. Hard. He yelped, they might have drawn blood.

“I… _would_ say if you weren’t such a little worthless slut,” he muttered, gasping, and he could hear her gurgle a laugh over him, she was smiling at her again with her eyes.

“Fuck,” he continued. “I want your little tight pussy so fucking badly, want to just lean you over that little desk in your bedroom and hear you squeal, God, I would fuck you so loudly the whole fucking house would hear you scream, I don’t even care… God, your fucking little tits in that bra, and I bet your pussy looks and tastes amazing…”

He was going very fast now. He wasn’t really sure what he was saying. He might just be saying a list of nouns, a list of organs that Shawn had that he didn’t.

He came deep in Shawn’s throat, his hands wrapped around her head, and whimpered slightly as he did so.

That was embarrassing, he thought, panting as Shawn slid her head off of him. He should have groaned, or yelled, or called Shawn a slut or something. Not _whimpered_.

She looked him right in the eyes, smirking at him slightly, and, looking proud but still a little apprehensive, leaned over the drain and slowly spit his cum out.

Oh fuck. She had remembered that from their conversation about porn, then. Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

“...Fuck,” he said, laughing slightly, reaching out to her to help her up, noticing she wobbled slightly as she did so. She was warm.

“Do you want me to do you now?” he muttered, reaching out tentatively towards her waist.

“No, no,” she said, looking apprehensive. Wary. “I’m good.”

“OK,” Trunks said, breathing heavily.

“Don’t worry,” she said, stepping out of the shower, a pool of water quickly appearing by her feet. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her sopping clothes. “We don’t have to do this again. It’s not like… I don’t… you know. _Like_ you, or anything. Don’t worry. But… thanks.”

Trunks blinked at her.

“Uh… uh-huh,” he said, nodding slightly, his stomach falling slightly.

Shawn gave him a little tight-lipped smile and splashed out of the bathroom, locking the door on her side of the bedroom/bathroom door as she did so. Trunks could hear the little definite click.

“What… the fuck,” Trunks asked himself, looking down at his flaccid member, “just happened?”

It was really remarkable that the water was still hot, Trunks thought dumbly, blinking into the stream of water. This had been a long shower.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes! 
> 
> 1\. Vegeta as a dad can be tricky to write. I usually write it, and then have to take away some dialogue and make him more abrasive. I hope it's in-character enough.
> 
> 2\. I am thinking that Shawn and Trunks's relationship (or potential relationship) is similar in some ways to Vegeta and Bulma's but gender-reversed. Shawn and Vegeta: orphans, not-established in the human world, strange childhoods, not conventionally (humanly) attractive, very anxious about self-worth but covered over with prickliness (although shown differently with both of them). Bulma and Trunks: established living families, very well established in the human world (rich), very attractive conventionally, very smart and well-educated, very experienced sexually and romantically, etc. (I read Bulma as having lots of boyfriends before and after Yamcha, not sure if that's canon.)
> 
> 3\. So several people in the comments from the last chapter talked about Shawn/Goten. Yes! Woo! Here's the thing. There will probably be some anxiety there. Not quite a love triangle (I don't like them) but awkwardness and confusion. There's even confusion and awkwardness with Shawn/Trunks now, who knows what will happen. But I always wonder about how to deal with stories where it's ambiguous who is going to end up with whom and the A03 tagging system. Do people tag all the potential relationships, even if they come to naught? Doesn't the tag "give it" away?
> 
> 4\. Not to make Shawn too much of a self-insert but I totally pulled a stunt similar to the one Shawn pulls here as an impressionable teen. At one of the first parties I attended with booze I made out with this boy I liked and then told him I didn't like him (I did). Then he left the party rather abruptly. It took me literal years to realize that may have upset him. Hah! Shawn has the emotional maturity of a teenager in a lot of ways.
> 
> 5\. I always feel bad making a story like this rated E because I feel like people see it and just want porn and then are like irritated that they have to wade through jokes about Vegeta being a dad. But now I must, I think, the word "cock" and "cum" both appeared.
> 
> 6\. My favorite part of this chapter is the idea that Shawn "splashes" out of the bathroom. I can just see her, waddling out of the bathroom, looking ridiculous.


	22. She did, admittedly, love pizza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old friend comes to pay a visit to the Briefs. Bra is incensed. A fight about labor unions.

Bra was absolutely furious. Livid. Everything she saw took on a whitish sheen.

And the worst thing about it was that no one was _listening_ to her! As soon as she had heard those all-too-familiar clunks and shudders she has positively _ran_ to her father to complain.

“It’s the Time Machine. I hear it,” she had said, pouting.

And worst of all, Vegeta had looked vaguely _pleased._

“Stop that,” she had commanded. “He may be your son, kind of, but if one of the Mais comes with him I bet you anything Mom will call up _our_ Mai and bring her around and they’ll _get back together._ Trunks and her.”

That had gotten her father’s attention. He had grunted at her.

But when the door to the Time Machine opened, no version of Trunks was even there. Instead, just a smiling, trench-coat wearing, _very_ pregnant Future-Mai. And of course Bra’s mother had oohed and ahed and now Present-Mai was coming over to talk to Future-Mai and stay for dinner.

Bra stomped around outside of Shawn’s room, loudly, hoping that Shawn would open the door and ask her what was wrong. And then Bra could try to… well, spread the anger around, she supposed.

Jesus.

First Pan and her ridiculous _date_ and now _this._ God- _fucking-_ dammit. Couldn’t people just date who they were _supposed_ to date? Trunks shouldn’t even be allowed near Mai at this point.

 _Two_ of them. _Two_ of them. Would be here. For dinner. Tonight!

Bra could kill someone.

Shawn made no move to open her door, so Bra finally gave in, pounding on the door. Shawn would be angry, too, probably. Right? She and Trunks had…. some kind of… _thing_ going on, Bra thought. They both got a little turned on when they were around each other, and the two of them had seemed extra polite and cordial at breakfast today. Plus Shawn smelled ever-so-slightly like Trunks. So, probably they had danced together or something last night, when Goten and Trunks went to see Shawn at that strip club. And now they felt… unsettled by the whole thing.

Shawn wasn’t great, but at least she hadn’t cheated on Trunks and sent him into a premature midlife crises.

“Come in,” Shawn called.

Bra flung open the door angrily – it bounced back on the wall and almost hit her in the face.

Shawn was sitting at her desk, reading something. She read a lot, books about anarchy and unions and strikes. Bra had been interested in the anarchy ones before she realized it wasn’t like the movies _The Purge._ It was about like, boring stuff. Ugh. Sharing resources. No one being rich.

“I am so furious I can barely see straight!” Bra yelled, her small hands into fists.

“What’s wrong now?” Shawn asked, glancing at her. Now, thought Bra, murderously. Like _she_ knew. She had only been around about a week. How dare she!

“ _Guess_ who’s coming to _dinner_ tonight?!”

“Um,” Shawn said, frowning. “…Someone you… don’t like?”

“Mai!” Bra spat out, flinging herself on Shawn’s bed. She hadn’t made it yet even though it was four in the afternoon. She liked that about her. Not too fussy. The bed smelled like Shawn, like newspapers and something else. Muffins, or something.

“Mai?” Shawn asked, and Bra could hear something in her voice… nervousness, or apprehension, or… something. “Trunks’s ex?”

“Yes,” Bra moaned. “ _And_ Future Mai. Who is pregnant with Trunks’s kid. She’s running around the workroom with Mom for some reason. Something to do with the pregnancy.”

“What?” Shawn asked sharply, turning around in her seat and frowning at her. She smelled alarmed. Good. An ally. “Trunks impregnated her?”

“Well, Future Trunks did, I guess,” Bra said, shrugging. “Maybe it’s not his. Wouldn’t surprise me.”

“What?” Shawn asked again.

“Didn’t I tell you about the timelines?” Bra said, anger taking over again. God, Shawn could be so _stupid_ sometimes. At first Bra had thought the whole thing with the exponents had been a way for Shawn to spend more time with Trunks, but the other day Shawn had asked _Bra_ to help her with her “homework” and, man. She was _really_ bad at math. What an idiot. “There are many timelines. Trunks and Mai are married, or something in one. _That_ Mai’s pregnant, but needed Mom’s help with something, came back in the time machine. That’s what all those loud bangs were earlier -- the time machine landing. Every time I hear clunks like that I know. Someone is coming from another one. And so Mom decided it would be a swell idea for _our Mai_ to also come to dinner.”

Bra sat up and glared at Shawn, who, besides looking bewildered seemed to be taking this well. Too well.

“Don’t you _care_?” Bra spat.

“Um…” Shawn said, looking confused.

“Mai’s _horrible_ for Trunks,” Bra moaned. “I bet he’s in there, right now,” Bra said pointing dramatically through the little shared bathroom, “thinking of ways to get her to date him again!”

“He’s not. He’s out shopping for dinner,” Shawn said, fiddling with a piece of hair.

I wonder if she knows that’s very attractive, Bra thought irritably, playing with her hair like that. Well, if she does, she’s… she’s… right. Dammit. She probably does, and is just… _practicing_ for her next little math-and-sexual-tension session with Trunks. Ugh.

“Are they kind of… well, destined for one another?” Shawn said, frowning. “If the other one is pregnant? If they’re… happy, in that timeline?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Bra snapped, sliding off the bed. “I _told_ you I don’t exist in the other timeline, and now you’re saying that they’re _destined_ for one another because of something that happened in _that_ timeline? Why don’t you just fucking tell me I’m worthless, then?”

“Calm down,” Shawn snapped, sounding… older than Bra. As if she was Bra’s… elder, like Trunks or Goten or Krillin or any of them. She might be _older_ , sure, but she’s been around for like a week, Bra thought murderously. She has no fucking right to talk to me like that.

“I’m _not_ saying that. I’m just… I don’t know what I’m saying. I just… I don’t think you’re really mad about this, anyway,” Shawn continued, frowning. “I saw Pan’s Instagram post about her date last night---“

“Oh, _fuck_ you,” Bra snapped. How the fuck did _she_ know about Pan? Was there a family newsletter she wasn’t copied on? “I hope Trunks and Mai _do_ get back together just to rub your face in it.”

“What does that mean?” Shawn said, flushing and narrowing her eyes.

“You know exactly what it means,” Bra said, triumphant that she had rattled Shawn. “Trunnnks, please help me with math, I had such a sad, tragic childhood,” Bra said, in a whining, horrible, voice, “I was burrrrned, and am _so_ interesting and I know how _swallow swords and things_ , _protect_ me, help me, Trunks…”

“Get out,” Shawn said, and Bra was pleased to see the anger in her eyes. At least someone else was irritated now, not just Bra. Someone would take this seriously.

“It’s not your goddamn house,” Bra said, grinning at her. “You can’t tell _me_ to leave. You’re here on our _charity._ ”

Shawn looked _very_ angry now.

Bra kind of hoped she would hit her. A fight would feel nice, now.

But instead Shawn just walked into the little shared bathroom, slammed the door, and locked it. She started running a shower.

“Yeah!” Bra yelled at the doorway. “You _run_ away, you… poor person!”

\--

Bra glared at the pizza in front of her, which was difficult because she did, admittedly, love pizza.

This was irritating as hell. Present-Mai had gotten a little _haircut_ which made her look professional and put-together and of course Bulma had nearly fallen over herself complimenting it. Future-Mai had also cooed over it, as well. Why was Future-Mai _here_ ? Well, something about needing some kind of medicine they didn’t have in their timeline. For the _baby._ Disgusting. She _hated_ Mai. All the Mais. It didn’t matter. They had upset Trunks, and she… she… felt very responsible for him, in a way.

Plus, he was annoying as hell to be around when he was sad.

Her father also seemed and smelled irritated. But not as irritated as her. Why didn’t he get into the _spirit_ of the thing?

Her mother, of course, was practically _begging_ Trunks and Mai to get back together, making little _comments._

Shawn was quiet, but seemed to be drinking much more wine than usual.

Bra wished she was old enough to drink. Trunks kept smiling at Present-Mai, and she kept smiling back. He had even suggested they go to some exhibit on something boring – atoms, maybe? – at the museum and she had shrugged and said sure. Damn, damn, damn. It was happening. Right before her eyes. Maybe Bra would murder her in her sleep.

“So what are you doing in this timeline, Mai?” Future-Mai asked, smiling and taking a drink of her orange juice. They had been sitting at this table for a long time.

Bra had to admit Future-Mai was the superior Mai. She was kind, sometimes. She had a shotgun. She wore pretty cool coats. She wasn’t a professor of engineering. She hadn’t ruined Future-Trunks’s life, as far as she knew.

“I’m a Professor of Electrical Engineering at Currytown University,” Present-Mai said, taking a little sip of her drink. “My work is focused on medical devices. I’m working on a governmental project right now…”

“Oh!” Bulma said, “You got the grant! Honey, that’s great!” Honey. Bra was never called Honey by Bulma. God.

“That is really great, Mai,” Trunks said, nodding. “Were you able to figure out that issue you were having with the maximum speed of those motors you emailed me about?”

Emailed you about, Bra thought murderously. Of course they still talked. Trunks could never cut the cord. God, Mai _cheated_ on him for fuck’s sake and now he’s looking at her with puppy-dog eyes. God. Bra could _not_ stand another multi-month-long period of Trunks skulking around sadly, weakly.

“Well, that’s a whole can of worms,” Present-Mai said, shrugging slightly. “I did figure it out, but it required using this new kind of shellacking that one of my Teaching Assistants came up with and now he wants to try to patent the shellacking independently. There are these odd _union_ people sniffing around. They’re just awful. They lie to people all the time.”

Bra looked at Shawn, elated. Shawn was very carefully drinking yet _another_ glass of wine, looking very pointedly at her plate.

“Shawn works at a union!” Bra blurted out.

“Yes,” Shawn said, fake-sweetly, taking another sip of wine. “The same one sniffing around your university, in fact. SAEUnited.”

This was better than Bra could have imagined. She was thrilled.

“Really,” Present-Mai said, frowning. “I thought you looked familiar… wait.” She laughed. “You’re not the one they call ‘The Dragon,’ are you? Who stands on tables and gets people all riled up?”

Shawn took another gulp of wine.

“Yes,” she said, setting the glass of wine down. “That is me.”

“The rumor is that you didn’t even go to college,” Present-Mai said, laughing. “And were raised in some kind of circus.”

“Also true,” Shawn admitted, giving Present-Mai a horrible little smile.

“Really.” Present-Mai said, frowning. “Well, that makes sense…”

“So, Future-Mai, have you and Future-Trunks thought about baby names yet?” Bulma asked, clearly trying to move the conversation away from the fight of the century Bra could just _feel_ was manifesting in the air between Present-Mai and Shawn.

“Why do you say that, Present-Mai?” Bra asked, acting overly confused. “Why does it make sense?”

“Well, these people at the union don’t seem to know how higher education _works._ It’s not a traditional work environment – unions are really more suited to kind-of blue-collar, factory work,” Present-Mai said easily. “And if you didn’t even go to _college,_ how could you possibly understand the inner workings of higher education?”

“That’s true,” Trunks said, nodding. “I’ve never even heard of universities unionizing. It’s always like… factories.”

“Well, the next time a university unionizes, I’ll make sure the union sends Trunks Briefs a memo!” Shawn snapped. “God forbid they don’t specifically tell you, forcing you to, you know, look it up yourself…”

“I mean,” Present-Mai continued, smiling slightly, “Trunks, you had a great relationship with your thesis advisor, right? Sheila Martindale?”

“I did,” Trunks said, nodding. “Still talk to her.”

“ _You_ wouldn’t have wanted a union getting in the way of that relationship, right?”

“Probably not,” Trunks agreed, shrugging. “Although I’m not sure how much it would have affected the relationship, to be honest.”

“Exactly!” Present-Mai said, triumphantly. “Because they wouldn’t _work—“_

“What was the name of the graduate student in Chemical Engineering who almost went blind from an accident in the lab, do _you_ remember, Mai?” Shawn cut in, sounding murderous. “Was it John Edgegrove or was it Max Lightningstock?”

Shawn took another long swig of her wine.

“That’s right,” Shawn laughed. “How _stupid_ of me. It was both of them! Two serious eye-injuries in the space of a month! What a nice, lovely, working environment…”

“It’s a _lab,_ it’s not _supposed_ to be a safe working environment,” Present-Mai snapped, sounding cold. “There will always be accidents. Besides, the department faced a very serious charges at the university level. They’re changing things around.”

“Mmmm,” Shawn said, rolling her eyes.

“The problem with you union people,” Present-Mai cut in, talking over Future-Mai’s question about how Trunks and Mai’s relationship in this timeline was going. Jesus, she doesn’t even know, Bra thought irritably. “Is that you think everyone is the same. They’re not. Some people are just better than other people. Some people are stronger. Some are weaker. It’s just the way of the world.”

“No.” Shawn said, shaking her head. “That’s not right.”

“Oh? And why not?”

“The whole _point_ of unions is recognizing that most people are weaker than others. And getting the weaker people to band together to be able to take on the stronger ones. Together.” Shawn said, rolling her eyes. “It’s the only way for weaker people to put up a fight.”

“That’s _another_ thing!” Present-Mai said, sounding exasperated. “All this fighting language, all this _war_ language you use. For God’s sake, you’re _not_ fighting. You’re _not_ in a war. You’re having people sign little slips of papers. You’re surrounded by fighters here, right now, Trunks and Vegeta and Future… well, Future-Me! They can tell you what _real_ fighting is. Future-Mai can tell you what it’s like to be in a _real_ war. To fight for your life! Not to push your radical political beliefs on people and lying to them about pay raises and dues!”

“Everything’s war,” Shawn spat. “You just can’t see it because you’ve been winning for so long.”

“Hah!” Present-Mai cried. “Well, maybe there’s a reason for that…”

“And what does _that_ mean?” Shawn snapped.

“Some people are just better equipped to handle the world than others. Some people go to school, some people… I don’t know, do the trapeze?”

And then, to Bra’s utter delight, it happened.

Shawn threw her drink in Mai’s face and then flung the glass down on the floor, where it exploded into a million pieces.

“Yeah!” Bra yelled into the stunned silence. “Fight!”

Present-Mai started laughing.

“God, you are _so_ hilarious,” she laughed, wiping some of the wine off of her face. “’The Dragon,’ indeed.”

And Shawn stood up, awkwardly apologized to Bulma, and stalked off to her room.

Oh, God-fucking-dammit, Bra thought. Present-Mai won.

\--

Mai put her hands in her coat and looked up at the dark sky.

She shouldn’t have been so mean to that girl, probably. Shawn. But something about her rattled her the wrong way… And those union people _did_ lie to graduate students, occasionally. They couldn’t promise the things they promised. All to make their union bigger, to collect more dues. They talked all high-minded about ethics but in the end weren’t terribly ethical themselves. At least in Mai’s experience.

The thing about the Chemical Engineering Department had stung, though. Mai hadn’t remembered those graduate students’ names. Shawn had. But _she_ didn’t know about all the meetings upon meetings the university had sent out once they realized just _how_ unsafe the Chemical Engineering Lab had been. Mai had friends who taught in that department. The way they talked about that time period had been chilling.

Future-Mai had looked so happy, with that baby in her belly. How old were they now? Fifty-two? Fifty-eight? Mai tried not to keep track. It was… unsettling.

She knew that Bra and Vegeta thought she had cheated on Trunks. She hadn’t. How to explain, though, to people with creepily good senses of smells that they had been trying sleeping with many people at once, that Trunks had _been_ there when she had taken that other man, whispering things in her ear, egging her on, enjoying himself. Not a nice conversation to have with your ex-boyfriend’s family, that was for sure.

Maybe she had made a mistake, dumping him.

It had all been so much, the timelines, the expectations. Bulma _wanting_ them to get together so much. Like an anvil around her neck. And she was so old. Tired. Not tired in the way of _wanting_ to settle down, tired in the way of not wanting to talk to someone in the morning about breakfast. She just wanted to eat her eggs and read her paper in piece.

The sex had been good, though. Mai liked sex.

And then there was that other strange girl, The Dragon. She wondered if they had something going on, although when she talked to Trunks in the hallway in between fast, ridiculous, kisses, he had told her that it was nothing. To come back in several hours, when the house was asleep. That he needed her. That was Trunks all right, such a romantic streak.

And she would. She knew it. She hadn’t gotten laid in a long time, and Trunks had looked very nice in that little tan jacket he had been wearing. And he was a good lover. It didn’t have to mean anything. It wouldn’t mean anything.

  



	23. Just skip first base and run to third?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mai and Trunks sleep together. They are, unfortunately, overheard. Shawn buys wine glasses. Bulma thinks about ledgers and stage rentals. Bulma and Shawn decide to make their situation more "official."

“Shawn’s pretty smart, you know, even though she grew up in a circus,” Trunks said, sleepily, dragging a hand through Mai’s short hair.

“I’m sure she is,” Mai said, sighing slightly and stretching. Her waist was very small, and seemed to get smaller when she stretched out. She was so, so beautiful, Trunks thought, sighing. “I’m smart, and I didn’t really go to school either.”

“You gave her a hard time.”

“She gave _me_ a hard time, I thought,” Mai said idly. That was true, Trunks had to admit. Besides, what did his father always say? That he needed to mate with a strong woman? And Mai was nothing if not strong.

“I don’t like that union,” Mai continued, thoughtfully. “They really irritated people at school...

“Mmm…” Trunks said, still ruffling her hair. That was fair, he thought. Shawn had… views. She was pretty strange about… capitalism, and communism, and things like that. Sometimes she would talk about laborers and Trunks would just kind of glaze over. There were happier things to think about, anyway. Now there were.

“If we had a kid, do you think it would be the same kid as Future-Trunks and Future-Mai?” Trunks said, crossing his arms behind his head and staring up at the ceiling.  

Trunks was happy. Content. Happier than he had been in months. Everything made sense, and nothing hurt. Everything was… perfect.

Even the breakup with Mai made sense. The horrible breakup, which had unmoored him for months. He had _needed_ that breakup to leave Capsule Corp. It still felt like his mother’s. Now, after a period of inaction he had started to make plans. He had been thinking of going back to school to get another doctorate, in Physics this time. And then, bam! Future-Mai appears, pregnant and glowing (it had been very attractive) and now _his_ Mai, his wonderful, lovely Mai had appeared and knew all about Physics departments and ways to fast-track a second doctorate.

And the fact that they had just had pretty great sex didn’t hurt, either.

The breakup had been _temporary._ A fluke. A way to progress. A stepping stone.

They would laugh about it, telling their kids about it.

Trunks wondered at what age one could give a child a shotgun. Eight, maybe? Probably their kids would be pretty good shots.

“I don’t know,” Mai said, “but we never will."

“You don’t mean that,” Trunks chided her, quietly moving a piece of hair out of her eyes. “You’d make a _great_ mother.” Maybe nine would be safer than eight, he thought to himself.

“I had my tubes tied,” Mai muttered, turning away from him on the little bed.

Trunks blinked.

“You’re joking,” he said flatly. “I thought you had to be older to get that done—“

“I’m fifty-eight, I think..”

“Well, not _really…_ ”

“Yes,” Mai said flatly. “ _Really._ Really fifty-eight.  Maybe fifty-seven. I just don’t look it."

Trunks sighed. This again. The old argument. Arguments, really. Kids had been a big one. He had always wanted children in a mental way – he wanted to pass on Saiyan genes, he wanted his parents to be grandparents, he thought it was the thing that people _did_

But recently he had started getting a little tug in his chest when he saw a baby or a toddler. They were so _small._ And they had so much _energy._ Amazing, really.

He looked at the ceiling for a few minutes, blinking.

“Did you really get your tubes tied?”

“ _Yes,_ Trunks,” Mai said irritably. “I’ve _told_ you I didn’t want children."

“Future-Mai looks pretty happy to be pregnant,” Trunks protested.

“I’m not her,” Mai said, sighing. “You’re not Future-Trunks, either.”

Things were starting not to make sense. Why would this happen – how could this happen – if it didn’t end in a miraculous make-up between him and her? Just… a blip? Just something that happened? What could that mean? _What_ would that mean? That Mai’s hands on his back didn’t mean anything, the way she had looked at him when he entered her, that little crooked smile he loved so much? That meant… nothing? The concern she had shown about Shawn – if there had been anything there. That was just… what? Idle curiosity?

“She gave me a blowjob,” he had gasped to her when she had brought up Shawn again, when they were tangled in his sheets. “That’s it. Promise. We haven’t even kissed.”

“What?” Mai had asked, raising an eyebrow. “How does that happen? Just skip first base and run to third?”

And Trunks hadn’t wanted to go into the whole _thing_ about how Shawn had been nervous and… terrified of intimacy, apparently. And was a virgin. And liked being told how worthless she was while he grabbed her head and rammed into her very, very fast. Something about that encounter still felt… precious to him. Which was weird, he had to admit. You don’t think of face-fucking someone hard and calling them a little whore to be the most precious of encounters. But, still. And, he assumed, it had been precious to Shawn. It had been her first time, after all. He hoped she wouldn’t be too upset about Mai.

“Oh, it just… happened like that,” Trunks had said lamely, tapping Mai on the nose. “One of those things.”

“Any good?” Mai had asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Sure,” Trunks had said, not wanting to say it had been the most thrilling blowjob he had ever gotten in his life. That wouldn’t have been kind to Mai, wouldn’t have been romantic.

And now they were here.

“You need someone who will have children with you,” Mai was saying firmly.

“No,” Trunks said, lying to himself. He didn’t care, though. “I need you. I love you, Mai.”

“You love the _idea_ of me, you don’t love me.” Mai grumbled. Trunks flushed. That again. He didn’t even totally understand it.

“What does that mean? The ‘idea’ of you is still _you_ , isn’t it?”

“No,” Mai said, and now she was standing up, pulling on her socks. Socks before pants. That was always how Mai did it, ever since she was teenager and they were learning how much more _fun_ making out without clothes was than with clothes.

This couldn’t happen again. Not again. Everything had made sense. Now nothing made sense, and everything hurt.

“This probably shouldn’t happen, again, Trunks,” she said, sighing as she slipped on her pants. The shirt was next. She hadn’t worn a bra. “You get kind of… emotional about me.”

Trunks stared at her, numb. Of course he was emotional when he was with her. She was _Mai._ _His._ Everyone _knew_ they were going to end up together! Ever since it was apparent that Future-Trunks and Future-Mai were together, it just… made sense. They worked in one timeline, didn’t they? Why _couldn’t_ they work in this one?

But Mai opened the door to his room, about to walk out, when she turned around, frowning slightly.

“The next time you date someone,” she said, haltingly, “or… _feel_ something for someone… just… make sure you really _pay attention_ to them. Don’t railroad them with your romance and your hopes and your dreams. Just… be with them."

Trunks had opened his mouth to proclaim that he had _always_ listened to her, that he didn’t know what she was talking about (although a hateful part of his brain rebelled and reminded him that about two minutes ago he had been thinking about what age his and Mai’s prospective children could be given shotguns) but she had just shaken her head at him and left.

Leaving Trunks alone.

 

\--

Bulma woke up early the next morning. She hadn’t slept well. Last night had been… intense. Not only the fight at the dinner table between Mai and Shawn – that had been regrettable, really – but also just the labor of helping Future-Mai.

The fetus was breech. Upside-down inside of Mai. Well, Future-Mai, that is. Not the worst case scenario in the world, but apparently caesarean sections were relatively dangerous in her timeline. She could deliver the baby in _this_ timeline, of course, but time traveling immediately before and after labor didn’t seem very fun.

So, Bulma had looked up old wives-tales about how to spin the baby around, forcing Mai to get in some ridiculous positions and _hold_ and breathe and hold and breathe and hold… And, at the same time, she had tried to create a little gizmo that could apply pressure to the outside of the belly, further encouraging the little fetus to move.

Mai would have to come back in a few days for the treatment to work. She had already left. Maybe Future-Trunks would come next time, too. That would be nice. She missed him, sometimes, and she _knew_ Vegeta did. He had some fond memories of the year the two of them had spent in the time chamber - memories he had even brought up, apropos of nothing, the other day.

Bulma slipped out of bed -- careful not to wake Vegeta – and wandered into the kitchen.

There was a box on the table.

She frowned at it, ripping open the envelope attached to it.

_Let me know if you’d like me to move out. Shawn._

Blinking at the note, she opened the box. Four wine glasses. Relatively nice ones, too, Bulma noticed. Not as nice as the one that Shawn had smashed, of course, but she had apparently _tried._ And Bulma knew that Shawn’s financial situation was a mess. She recorded everything in a little black ledger. She had left it on the kitchen table once, and Bulma had peeked. At first she had thought it was humorous that Shawn still used pen and paper to record her finances – most everything was done on computers these days, she thought – but then after looking more carefully, she had felt bad.

She was still paying off her mother and father’s funerals, at what seemed to be a ridiculously high rate of interest. She had a fair amount of credit card debt. Some old medical bills. She didn’t make much, she hadn’t been making much even when she had been working at the union. She apparently had to pay the strip club a fee to work there – a “stage rental.” Highway robbery. And there were union dues, too, which had surprised Bulma. You don’t think of _strip clubs_ as being a place with unions.

Bulma had always been rich, and seeing the way a paycheck could disappear into thin air from old debt was a new experience for her. It didn’t seem… like, well, a way to live. It looked awful, actually.

Bulma made some toast and sat at the table, and thought.

She knew she didn’t want Shawn to leave. She knew, somehow, it would be bad for the family. The thing she had trouble putting her finger on was _why_. And Bulma didn’t like not knowing things. She was a scientist. A scientist with a good sense of intuition, but, still.

She was sure it had something to do with Vegeta. Vegeta had acted a little differently ever since Shawn had moved in. Not _very_ differently, but slightly.

Finishing her toast, Bulma wandered down the hallway towards Shawn’s room. She knocked at the door.

\--

“Come in,” Shawn said, sitting up and sleepily rubbing her eyes. She wondered grimly who it was – Bra, to be nasty to her and laugh at her, Vegeta to scream at her, Trunks to have sex with Mai in front of her, or Bulma to order her out of the house. Which would be worst?

“It’s me,” Bulma said, sidling into the room and flipping on the light. Shawn groaned slightly at the light, sitting up. “Sorry to wake you. I wanted to talk about your note.”

“Oh,” Shawn said, rubbing her chin uncomfortably. A piece of hair was starting to grow in. She could feel it. Great. “Do… do you want me to move out?

“No,” Bulma said, shaking her head. “Definitely not. You’re good for the family.”

“Um…” Shawn said, blushing a bit. “Really? Because I just threw a glass of wine in your son’s girlfriend’s face last night… So… doesn’t seem _great_ to me, but…”

“Ex,” Bulma corrected, turning around Shawn’s desk chair and sitting in it. “Ex-girlfriend."

“If you say so,” Shawn mumbled. She had heard them last night. It had been awful. She had been brushing her teeth and – bam! – she had heard Trunks’s voice through the bathroom door, sounding _very_ low and raspy and sexy saying the hateful sentence, the sentence that had felt like she had just swallowed an ice cube.    

_She gave me a blowjob. That’s it. We haven’t even kissed!_

And then Mai had made a joke about it, about her. About skipping bases. Laughing at her. And that was right, Shawn knew, what kind of person would climb into a shower, fully-clothed and eagerly start sucking someone off while begging to be abused.

A eunuch, Vegeta would say, smugly. Someone damaged.

Ugh.

She had hated herself in that minute, hated Trunks, hated Mai, hated Vegeta… all of them. The toothbrush in her mouth reminded her too much of Trunks’s cock. She had gagged slightly. She had spit out the toothpaste as quietly as she could and crept out the bathroom. She hadn’t wanted to make any noises, to alert them to the fact that she had been in there, hearing them.

She had crawled into her bed, placing her head under the covers.

She had been… embarrassed. It had meant a lot to her, that time in the shower. When she thought of it she felt… tender, or something. A little warm feeling in her chest. It had been exactly how she wanted. And she had felt proud of herself for finally having a sexual experience that involved genitalia and didn’t involve Cliff the Asshole. She had been prepared to tell Lacy about it, and maybe even 18. Now she felt like a freak.

“Shawn,” Bulma said, snapping her fingers and startling Shawn out of her uncomfortable reverie. “Are you there?"

“Sorry…” Shawn said, rubbing her head. “Just tired.”

“When did you get those wine glasses, anyway?”

Shortly after Trunks started fucking Mai, Shawn didn’t say. She had snuck out, trying to be as quiet as possible, and went to a twenty-four hour housing store. She was the only one there buying wine glasses.

“Late last night,” Shawn muttered. “A twenty-four hour store.”

“You _are_ good for the family,” Bulma continued, frowning at Shawn slightly. “For Vegeta. For some reason.”

Shawn pulled a face.

“I doubt that,” she said, shrugging. “Or if he is, it’s just to make fun of—“

“He’s nicer to the kids when you’re around,” Bulma cut her off, shrugging. “I’m not sure why. But he’s been spending slightly more time with them and talking to them more. It’s been… good for them, I think.”

“Oh,” Shawn said. Vegeta had seemed pretty mean to Trunks and Bra to her, but maybe he had been… worse, before?

“I think you remind of him of himself,” Bulma continued. “Plus, he likes to be around other Saiyans. It makes him feel more… rooted, I think. It’s just always been strange because he’s never gotten _along_ with other Saiyans very much.”

“I’m not really a Saiyan,” Shawn mumbled, fiddling with the hair on her chin.

“You’re enough of one,” Bulma said, sighing. “Listen, do you want to make this official? I don’t want you moving out.”

“Make _what_ official?” Shawn asked, wondering wildly if Bulma was planning on _adopting_ her.

“A lease,” Bulma said. “We’ll rent you this room, in exchange for… oh, let’s say three hours of gymnastics lessons a week for Bra. Vegeta said she liked watching gymnastics with him. It was astonishing. I don’t think he’s _ever_ watched television with them before.”

“I’m not really a trained gymnastics teacher…” Shawn protested.

“That doesn’t matter,” Bulma said, waving her hand irritably. “Just spend some time with her. And, oh, I don’t know. Do the laundry or something. Pretty good for free room and food.”

“It is…” Shawn said, frowning. “I don’t really understand why the sudden need for this…”

Bulma sighed, and tapped her fingers on her knee.

“I’m not _blind_ , Shawn,” she said, not unkindly. “I know it must be… awkward, to live with a man around your own age. It might get… more awkward. You know. Feelings, and all that. You might get drunk at a party and kiss him. These things happen.”

Shawn stared at the comforter.

“But I want to keep you around, even if it gets awkward, because… I don’t know. I feel like it is the right thing to do. And even though you could break a lease relatively easily, I suppose, it would still give us _some_ stability…”

Bulma paused by the door, about to leave.

“You know, Vegeta and I had a one-night stand. That’s how Trunks came to be.”

“I heard about that,” Shawn said, blushing slightly. Did she _know_ , somehow, about the oral sex in the shower?

“My parents wanted me to have an abortion at first. But, well… it didn’t feel right. I just had a sense. I had a sense about Vegeta too, to tell you the truth. That he would probably come back.” Bulma shrugged. “And somehow, I feel like you should be here too. Not sure why but… I want to have you around.”

“OK,” Shawn mumbled, still looking at the bed.

“Get some more sleep, Shawn,” Bulma said, heading out the door. “I need to work on that fetus-spinning device for Future-Mai…”

I’m just doing this because it’s a good deal, Shawn told herself, collapsing back on the bed. It’s a _great_ deal. A few hours of work for free rent, internet, utilities, food… It’s not because I’m _attached_ to any of these crazy people.

Definitely not.

Definitely, definitely not.

And she didn’t care that Trunks and Mai were apparently a _thing_ again.          

Nope.

She was strong.

She didn’t care, at all.


	24. If you finish that sentence, I will kill you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 18 and Shawn meet in a cafe for their second enforced-therapy-sesh.

“What’s the rule, here, about talking about sex stuff?” Shawn asked, poking at the little green tea cake at the café. It was their second “experimental therapy” session. 18 had been looking forward to it.

“Um,” 18 said, cocking her head at Shawn. “I just talked about how my husband went down on me at that party,” she said, shrugging, “so I think the answer is ‘We Are OK Talking About Sex Stuff’, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Shawn said, hesitatingly. “But like… with people of the younger generation.”

Oh, 18 thought. That made sense.

“Did something happen with Trunks?” 18 asked, surprised.

“Um…” Shawn said, trailing off as she starting stabbing her cake with a knife. Oh dear. That didn’t look very good. “Not exactly. But... didn’t you know him as a kid? Isn’t it weird?”

“I don’t really care about that,” 18 said, shrugging slightly. “I met the adult Trunks – Future Trunks – before I met our Trunks as a baby anyway. I sort of always saw Trunks as an adult.”

“I don’t like all this time travel,” Shawn muttered, stabbing the cake some more. 18 wondered if she ever planned to eat it.

“Well?” 18 prompted. “Spill.”

And so Shawn talked. About walking into their shared bathroom and seeing Trunks, in all his glory, touching himself in the little glass-paneled shower. And how she sucked him off, still wearing clothes, and encouraged him to be rough. And how he had kept being “sappy,” as Shawn said it, once even having the nerve to call her beautiful.

“Aw,” 18 said, smiling slightly. “That sounds sweet.”

“It wasn’t sweet,” Shawn said irritably. “He was just saying it because I was literally sucking his dick. I don’t think he _meant_ it.”

“Well,” 18 said, shrugging a bit. “I don’t know. Krillin once told me I never looked better than when I was on my knees, fellating him.”

“Did he really say ‘fellating’?” Shawn asked moodily.

“I think so,” 18 said, laughing slightly. “He can be kind of… formal.”

“I think Trunks thinks I’m a freak,” Shawn continued.

“There’s literally nothing in the story to even suggest that,” 18 protested. “He tried to kiss you, he called you beautiful, he didn’t try to press your boundaries, _and_ he said some truly filthy things about what he wanted to do to you in the future. He probably really wants to, you know, _do_ them.”

“Well, I mean after the fact. After _Mai_ came…”

And then Shawn told the other half of the story, the part of the story which was more complicated and involved time travel.

“And I overheard her _asking_ him about me, and he said, ‘She just gave me a blowjob. That’s it. We didn’t even kiss,’ which she made a _joke_ about. Bitch.” Shawn mumbled, now pushing the crumbs of the decimated cake into a disgusting-looking cake-mountain.

“Oh,” 18 said, sighing slightly. “Are they dating again, then?” That would be… typical of Trunks, she thought.

“Well…” Shawn said, shrugging. “I don’t really think so. I’m not sure. I think something… _happened_ , later. Mai come over – and _spent the night –_ two days ago now. And the last two days have been… strange. Trunks has been moodily stomping around the place and everyone is on pins-and-needles around him. Well, Bulma is ridiculously effusive around him, and Bra and Vegeta just don’t talk to him.”

“He still tutoring you in math?”

“I shoved some homework underneath his door,” Shawn said, blushing slightly. “He wouldn’t answer when I knocked.”

“What is he, sixteen?” 18 asked, surprised. Not answering the door and pouting was… not particularly mature.

“I know. It’s all… a _lot._ He’s… kind of _childish_ ,” Shawn said, examining the handiwork of her cake-crumb-mush-mountain. “I liked him better when I didn’t realize how… childish he could be.”

Says the person playing with their food and pouting, 18 didn’t say. Instead, she cocked her head at Shawn thoughtfully.

“I knew many of Krillin’s faults right away,” 18 said, tapping the rim of her teacup. “He can be weak. Emotional. Overly passionate. He makes terrible jokes. But it was only after I got to know him a little better that I realized he had other faults, too. Bigger ones. He will martyr himself for no reason, and then pout. He makes promises he can’t always keep.”

“But,” 18 continued, “when you really like someone, those faults seem… worth it. And you like them more for them, almost. Not always. But… sometimes.”

“Right,” Shawn said, sounding irritated. “I _don’t_ like Trunks the same way you like Krillin. That’s the point. I’m sick of him.”

18 didn’t say anything, but instead studied the menu hanging on the wall behind Shawn’s head.

“Do you think lavender ice cream is any good? Sounds weird.” 18 asked mildly.

Shawn groaned and set her head on the table, narrowly avoiding her plate of mush.

“Why does everyone think I’m… in love with him or something?” Shawn groaned, slamming a fist on the table. Some of 18’s tea spilled over. As for Shawn’s cake, there was no saving it at this point. “No wonder Bulma wanted me to sign a lease… she thinks I might run away due to everyone’s incessant _comments_ …”

“You’re paying rent?” 18 asked, surprised. That wasn’t like Bulma. She was rich, sure, and a cheapskate with _some_ things, but she had always been very good about people staying at her place.

“No. Yes. Kind of. I’m doing the laundry and teaching Bra gymnastics. Even though I don’t really know gymnastics. I just like… show her a cartwheel and say ‘do that,’ and she does it. It’s… dumb.”

“Bulma likes you,” 18 said, smiling slightly.

“She thinks I’m good for _Vegeta,”_ Shawn mumbled, and 18 could see the tops of her ears turning red.

“You probably are.” 18 said, shrugging. “Believe it or not, he does better with lots of people around. You wouldn’t think so, but in a big group he can always pout and stew in a corner somewhere. When there’s only one or two people around he gets really hellish. I don’t know how Bulma stands him.”

“She fucks him an awful lot,” Shawn said, her muffled voice sounding exasperated. “They’re loud sometimes. Poor Trunks and Bra. And I have to wash their goddamn bedsheets. She wants them washed _every time_ they have sex. Is that like a normal thing married people do?”

“Huh. Krillin and I don’t do that,” 18 said, frowning slightly. “That’s a lot of laundry. How _messy_ are they?”

“I think Vegeta sweats a lot when they fuck. I thankfully haven’t noticed… barrels of cum on the bedsheets or anything like that,” Shawn said, still resting her head on her arms in front of her.

“Huh,” 18 said, clearing her throat and grabbing the sheets of paper in her bag. “We’re supposed to talk about these questions…” She looked down at the first one. “Tell me, Shawn, a time you felt good about your appearance over the past two weeks, and a time you felt bad about your appearance.”

Shawn groaned, and started pulling at her hair.

“Come on,” 18 coaxed. “You know this is all confidential…”

“I know, I know,” Shawn grumbled, looking up at her. “But what I’m going to say is so… so… _stereotypical._ So gross. You’re going to think I… _like_ Trunks or something.”

“No. What would possibly give me that idea?” 18 asked dryly. We’ve just been talking about him for the past fifteen minutes.

“I felt attractive when he was watching me perform. I know… I know he likes that. The… sword swallowing.”

“OK,” 18 said, nodding. “So do you think you could feel attractive when he _wasn’t_ there?”

Shawn shrugged, but didn’t say anything.

God, 18 thought to herself, _Marron_ could be more mature than Shawn. And Marron was sixteen. And not winning any awards in the maturity department, either.

“And a time when you felt unattractive? When you heard Mai saying that joke about you, right?”

“Yep,” Shawn said, her head still down. “But it doesn’t mean anything. I _don’t_ like him. He’s… ridiculous.”

“OK,” 18 said, starting to get irritated. “You’ve got to pull yourself together, Shawn. I mean, come _on._ He’s just some… _man._ ”

“Well?” Shawn said, a nasty edge to her voice, glancing up at her. “ _You_ got all upset because your husband watched a porno you didn’t like. I mean, how… how… _typical_ is that? You must be one of what, thousands of women in this city alone who cries and cries and cries because their husband wanks off without them sometimes?”

“I don’t care if he watches porn,” 18 said, angrily flipping some of her hair out of her face. “You know that. It was… _specific_.”

“Yeah, because of your _machinery._ What does Vegeta call you? A washing machine? Can you do a spin cycle with your—“

“I’ve heard that one before,” 18 cut her off. “Come _on._ Ask me my questions, record them, we can talk about strategies, and then we can go shopping.”

“You still want to go shopping with me?” Shawn asked, sounding surprised and pitiful.

“Yes,” 18 said, surprised. “Come on. We’re… friends, right? Besides, in this group, you get used to people being nasty to you for no reason. Just… pull yourself together. Have some self-respect. _Try_ to feel better about yourself.”

“Fine,” Shawn grumbled, looking up at 18. “When did you feel attractive and when did you feel unattractive?”

This part was always hard for 18. She wished it wouldn’t be, she thought it shouldn’t be, she had just been _chiding_ Shawn for God’s sake, but still. Saying these things out loud were always difficult. Her voice always came out timid and wheedling. She hated it.

“Well,” 18 said, shifting in her seat. “As I told you, the sex with my husband has been… insane, recently. Very good. He’s been very… desperate, in a way, to make sure I know he doesn’t find any part of me… gross.”

God, there had been that time in the kitchen, as soon as Marron left for school. Krillin had needed to leave soon, too, but he had put his arms around her as she stood at the sink, doing a bad job of washing the dishes. His arms had crept up under her shirt, feeling cool and soft on her stomach.

“You look so incredible,” he had breathed, his head not even coming up to her shoulder, “I can’t wait until tonight, 18. I need you. Can we? Please, babe? Please?”

She _loved_ it when he begged her. She had even forced him down on his knees, telling him he needed to beg, _really_ beg, for a breakfast-quickie.

They had never done that before. Begging, like “please, please” and “I need you, I need you, I need you,” and (if it was her) “hurry up, hurry up, stop _teasing_ me,” yes, but never like… playacting. Never forcing someone on their knees. It had been… showy. Adjacent to embarrassing.

He had been thrilled, though. She could tell by his face, by the little quick intake of breath he had gasped as soon as she had forced him down.

And she had finally flipped him over on the ground and ridden him, and they had knocked over the milk jug that had been on the table.

She had felt pretty then. Not just pretty… sexy. Powerful. Amazing.

“OK, great, you have great sex, awesome,” Shawn said, moodily picking at a piece of hair on her chin. 18 thought that she would force Shawn to get electrolysis one of these days. For God’s sake. “And when did you feel unattractive?”

18 licked her lips. She didn’t really want to talk about this. But… she probably had to.

“Well… Krillin has a colleague. Very young, very pretty. And she likes Krillin…”

“She flirts with him?”

“I… don’t really think so, but she smiles at him a lot…”

“Bitch,” Shawn grumbled.

18 laughed.

“Yes. But she wants Krillin to _mentor_ her. And it would be good for his career, and I don’t think he likes her… but yes. When I see them talking to each other I feel… old. She’s… young. Younger than you, even.”

“You look amazingly young,” Shawn protested.

“Yes,” 18 agreed. “But even _that_ feels strange. I age slower than normal because… I’m… you know.”

“Yeah,” Shawn said, nodding. “So? How can you feel better? How can _we_ feel better?”

“I don’t know,” 18 said, sighing. “I think you should try to get over your anxieties about your nose, though. Models often have something wrong with their faces. People still like _them._ ”

“You mean that model with the gap between her front teeth,” Shawn alleged. Well, that was true. “That’s barely a fault!”

“Yeah,” 18 nodded. “But there’s that one with the skin pigmentation problem…”

“They’re thinner than me, though.”

“Shawn, I’m not suggesting you could start modeling!” 18 cried in exasperation. “I’m just saying… it’s not as bad as you think it is. And if you start wearing clothes that fit you properly –“

“These fit,” Shawn protested.

“The shirt’s too tight and the pants are too big,” 18 sighed. “I’ll help you find some things. But just… try to allow yourself to be attractive. We _know_ Trunks finds you attractive, why not others?”

“He just likes me because of the sword swallowing—“ Shawn started.

“If you finish that sentence,” 18 said, “I will kill you.”

“Fine,” Shawn mumbled, glancing at her. “It’s transparent Krillin’s, like, obsessed with you,” she muttered, pushing some of her hair out of her eyes. “The way he looks at you… he looked at you that way on the boat, and again when you came over for dinner. He _really_ loves you.”

“I know,” 18 said, allowing a small little smile to creep over her face. “I still worry, though.”

“Yeah…” Shawn said, “I know… I mean, men sometimes proposition me at the club. They compliment me. They like my hair, my… breasts, my… muscles. Sometimes they say they like the fact that I have an ‘alternative’ look, which _sounds_ a bit like an insult. But still. They are literally trying to give me money to get in my pants. So… I mean, I _know_ it, but… I still worry.”

“Yeah…” 18 said, sighing and draining the rest of her tea. “Emotions are rough, aren’t they? Well. Let’s ignore them and get you some shirts. The right size will make you look less heavy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eagle-eyed readers may notice that I specified that the shower in the Shawn/Trunks shared bathroom is one of those glass-paneled showers (without a tub) that one often finds in hotels.
> 
> I figured most people assumed this because this is similar to the shower we see Vegeta showering in canon DBZ, but I was alarmed the other day in my own bathroom, realizing that most homes have a shower/tub combination. And the scene with Trunks/Shawn doesn't really work as well without glass doors and ease of entrance/exit of one of those showers.
> 
> I might specify later that the bathroom is the fanciest bathroom in the world and features a claw-tooth tub AND one of those shower things. So fancy. But this will likely only happen if someone needs to have sex in a tub for reasons.


	25. You put a candle in front of their photo sometimes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bra eats lunch at school at her typical table-full-of-misfits. She hatches a plan to misbehave. Goten gets some texts that make him feel very thoughtful. Shawn and Trunks talk in the laundry room.
> 
> CW: discussion of underage/teenage drinking

Bra thought she should be popular. When she thought about the qualities which made her  _ her _ there it was mostly a list of things that high school girls would salivate over. Mostly.

She was thin. (Small tits, though.)

She was smart. (Wait, maybe popular girls weren’t supposed to be too smart? That Peony girl certainly acted like a bimbo half of the time… Huh. Something to consider.)

She was rich. (As far as Bra was concerned, there were no negatives to being rich.)

She was athletic. (Although she refused to be on any athletic teams or really try in gym class.)

Nice hair. (She had a unibrow though, and sometimes forgot to tweeze it. It had been Trunks who had shown her how, when she was ten years old, to tweeze and shape her eyebrows. He had explained to her that he had to do it, too. Or else he looked, as he called it, “crazy.” What a loser.)

Nice skin, no pimples. (She did have dark under eye circles. A few weeks ago Trunks had approached her, brandishing some concealer he had bought her and she had screamed at him that he was going to give her a complex or something. But she had taken the concealer.)

She wasn’t shy and frightened of boys. (Well. Hmm. She didn’t much like boys, so…)

But here she was, sitting at lunch with the entirety of the chess team and the Dungeons & Dragons club. 

Well. Role-playing was pretty fun. And she was pretty good at it, too, she could even do a bunch of voices… And the people at this table were interesting. She  _ liked  _ them, she grudgingly admitted to herself.

“I overheard Peony talking about going to a  _ bar _ on Friday night,” Adelaide, one of the few girls who sat at the table-full-o-nerds was saying. Bra liked Adelaide well enough. She was overweight and pleasant. Jolly-looking. Spent her free time writing fanfiction and creative fiction. It wasn’t bad, either.

“Really?” Bra asked, cocking her head to one side. “A bar that doesn’t card?”

“I guess so,” Adelaide said, frowning. “Isn’t that crazy? We’re a little young to be drinking… Won’t their parents find out?”

That was like Adelaide all over. Very responsible.

“Did she say which bar?” Bra asked.

“Southport. The one next to that arcade…”

“We should go, too,” Bra said.

“And hang out with the popular girls and a bunch of jocks?” Richard asked, pushing up his glasses and typing furiously on his laptop. “Why?”

“I dunno,” Bra said, shrugging. “It sounds kind of fun. Don’t you want to know what drinking is like, Adelaide? You write stories where people are getting drunk all the time…”

“That’s… true. But, still, our parents will find out…”

“Come over to my place after,” Bra said, shrugging. “Tell your parents we’re having a sleepover. My parents are pretty out of it most of the time, anyway.”

Silence.

“What?” Bra asked, taking a bite of her second sandwich.

“Your Dad is pretty… scary,” John, a pretty good soccer player who had been relegated to their table last year after another soccer player had discovered that John’s browser history on his phone included lots of pictures of naked men (a cautionary tale, Bra thought). “He wouldn’t allow you to have boys over, would he?”

“What the hell would  _ you _ do to me, John? Give me a makeover?” Bra asked archly.

“Hah! Get it? Because you’re gay,” Richard said, snorting, his eyes never leaving his laptop.

“Don’t be mean, Bra…” Adelaide, Protector-of-the-Downtrodden, scolded.

“Dad’s fine. He won’t hurt you. You just have to yell at him. Come  _ on.  _ It’ll be fun. We can play D&D after… And I just got that video game about the cowboys…”

That sealed it, she knew. Richard even looked up from his laptop in surprise. Hah! She had won!

“All right,” Adelaide, said, sighing. “As long as none of us get into trouble…”

\--

Goten felt like crying. He didn’t, though. He just felt like it.

A few hours ago, he had gotten a text from Trunks. A link to a Wikipedia page. About “demisexuality.”

And then, came another text.

‘This u??’ The text read.

Goten hadn’t responded. He had been busy reading the Wikipedia article and having heart palpitations. It… well, it  _ did _ sound like him. People who only felt sexual attraction after forming some kind of emotional bond. It explained Kathy, (God,  _ Kathy. _ He had been  _ so  _ into her…) and even the guy at the coffee shop.

Maybe he wasn’t… damaged.

His phone buzzed again. Another link.

A local meeting of asexuals, demisexuals, gray-asexuals. At a dive bar, on Friday. Called… Southport. He had heard of that bar. Rumor on the street was that they didn’t card particularly aggressively, and so it was a favorite for teens. Odd place to have a meeting… Well, he thought, continuing to read the invite, the beer prices are really cheap. Wow. That’s probably why they wanted to have it there, then.

Another buzz from his phone.

‘I’ll come w/ you if you want.’ And then, a little emoji of a martini glass and a beer glass. Trunks liked emojis, for some reason.

Goten leaned back on his bed, tried not to cry, and thought.

\--

Shawn scowled at the stain on Bra’s shirt. An oil stain. Websites had suggested using chalk to sop up the oil before washing the stained garment, and she had actually made the effort to go and buy chalk. Now, rubbing the chalk on the shirt she felt idiotic. Maybe it was all an elaborate prank.

“Hi.”

Trunks’s voice startled her; she jumped. Spinning around, she saw him, leaning somewhat awkwardly in the doorway.

“Oh… hi,” she answered, turning back to the shirt and continuing to rub chalk in it. “Do you have clothes for me to wash?”

“No. I just graded your homework, though.”

“Oh,” Shawn said, glancing over at him. They hadn’t really talked since Mai-gate, as she had taken to calling it in her head. That had been a week ago. He had been quiet and cooped up in his room most of the time, and Bra and Vegeta still weren’t really talking to him.

“It was very good. You got almost everything correct, except you lost a negative sign in one of the problems. You need to watch out for that.”

“Oh…” Shawn said, setting Bra’s oily-and-chalky shirt aside and dumping the rest of the clothes into the washer.

“You don’t sort them by color?” Trunks asked, sounding surprised.

“I… no. I wash them all on cold. The colors don’t run, then. Is that… is that wrong?” Shawn had always washed her clothes in cold water. Sometimes, when she had been on the road with her family, in a stream.

“Well… it’s not ideal… but I haven’t noticed any difference in my stuff, so maybe it doesn’t matter.”

“When I was a kid, we would hand wash almost everything,” Shawn said, dimly aware that she was babbling. Trunks just there,  _ looking  _ at her, was making her uneasy. “Sometimes even in rivers.”

“Really?” Trunks said, walking over and perching on the little counter next to the washing machines. He crossed his ankles, his knees jutting out at a weird angle.

“Yep. Sometimes we’d go to laundromats, but not all that often…”

“Did you have one of those things? Like a metal board?”

“A washboard? Yeah,” Shawn said, turning on the washer.

“Huh. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in real life. What were your parents like?”

Shawn glanced up, surprised. Trunks wanted to… talk, she guessed.

“Move over,” she said, jumping on the counter next to Trunks. He squirmed over. Shawn tucked her heels under her thighs in what her father had called ‘Indian-style’ but was apparently called ‘Criss-Cross Applesauce’ these days. Her knee touched Trunks’s thigh. It wasn’t really a big enough space for both of them. “Why the sudden interest in my parents?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You put a candle in front of their photo sometimes. I went in your room to drop off your homework.”

“Oh,” Shawn said, blushing slightly. “Yeah. To… remember them.”

“What were their names?”

“Solomon and Esther.”

“You Jewish? Those are Jewish names, right?”

“Yeah,” Shawn said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “Didn’t you know? Big nose, curly brown hair… very stereotypical.”

“I didn’t know those stereotypes,” Trunks said. Well, that made sense, Shawn thought. There weren’t a lot of Jewish people where they lived. Maybe like three people in the whole country. “The only thing I know about Jews is that they don’t eat pork. But you do, don’t you?”

“I’m not religious,” Shawn said, laughing slightly. “Never been to temple, or anything. My Dad spoke some Yiddish to me, though. It’s… like German.”

“Huh. You got along with them?”

“My parents?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Shawn said, leaning back. “Very well. We were like… a unit. Together. I felt like… well. It’s stupid.”

“What?” Trunks asked her, looking at her.

“I felt like my life made a lot more sense when they were alive,” Shawn said, laughing uncomfortably. “I know that sounds stupid…”

“It doesn’t,” Trunks said. “I felt like that when I was with Mai.”

“Oh,” Shawn said, looking at her legs. Still a little too fat, she thought.

“You’re not, then? With Mai? I know she stayed the night a while back…”

“Oh…” Trunks said, blushing. “You heard her come in, then?”

“Yep.” Shawn said, internally hoping – praying – that he wouldn’t ask if she had heard anything in particular, such as, oh, that hateful little statement Trunks had made about her. (Just a blowjob! We haven’t even kissed!)

“Yeah… well. She… dumped me, I guess. Again.” Trunks said moodily, running his fingers through his hair.

“Ah,” Shawn said.

“I wasn’t teasing you, you know,” Trunks said suddenly. “When I asked you if you were a virgin. In the shower.”

“Oh,” Shawn said, feeling stupid. “Um… okay.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Trunks continued.

“You just like the idea because of your little tight-pussy fetish,” Shawn said, hoping that the quip would diffuse some of the awkwardness she was feeling.

Trunks gave her a little sideways look.

“Well,” he said. “That, too.”

Gulp. Yikes. This had backfired, Shawn thought. That little look had been… wow. Huh. He wasn’t teasing her, was he?

“I’m going to try to go back to school,” Trunks said suddenly. “I haven’t told my parents yet. I’m not sure they’ll be very happy about it.”

“Oh,” Shawn said, blinking. “In… Physics? You said something about that, once.”

“No,” Trunks said, grimacing slightly. “They wouldn’t have a problem with  _ that.  _ Rhetorical studies. Writing.”

“Oh,” Shawn said. “You like that?”

“Yeah,” Trunks said, looking at the ceiling. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me, the first time we met. That everything is propaganda.”

“I… I’m not sure I totally believe that,” Shawn said, squirming uncomfortably on the countertop.

“Yeah. Math doesn’t seem to be very propaganda-ish,” Trunks said, nodding.

“Are you going to work, too?” Shawn blurted out before she could stop herself.

“If I get in, I’ll be a Teaching Assistant.”

“Oh. PhD programs?”

“Yeah,” Trunks said, nodding. “It’s a really… crazy thing for me to do. I already have a doctorate. I kind of own part of a company. But… I don’t know. I just want to do this.” He gave her another sideways look. 

“You probably think I’m really spoiled.”

“No,” Shawn said immediately, although she  _ had _ just been thinking that. Trunks was still looking at her. 

“Well,” she said lamely. “You just had a different kind of life than me.”

“Yeah,” Trunks agreed, smiling slightly. “Mom wants you to go to college, you know.”

“Well… let’s concentrate on getting the GED first,” Shawn said, blushing.

“She says some schools have something called ‘Labor Studies.’ It’s usually lots of communists and pro-union people, she says. She thinks you’d do well there.”

“Oh…” Shawn said, blushing. “I can’t really afford college…”

“There are scholarships. Mom would probably pay for it, anyway.”

“I’ve only known you people for like, what? A month?” Shawn snapped, suddenly feeling very hot and angry. “Maybe a month and a half? And I’m suddenly living with you? And being offered… what,  _ college tuition _ ? It’s crazy. You guys  _ aren’t  _ my family. My family is dead.”

Trunks didn’t say anything through her little outburst. He just looked at her, impassive.

“This group… kind of absorbs people,” he said after a moment, shrugging. “It happened more in my parents’ generation – my dad, even, was kind of absorbed by the group. 18. Piccolo. It makes sense it’s starting in our generation, too. Once you’re in, you’re in.”

“Like the mafia,” Shawn said darkly, her anger dissipating.

Trunks laughed.

“Yes,” he agreed. “The alien-mafia. How are gymnastic classes going with Bra?”

“Oh, fine. Sometimes we really just chat in the workout room and don’t do anything else. Do you think Bulma would mind?”

“No,” Trunks said, shaking his head. “You’re getting her out of her room and off the couch. That’s the important thing.”

“Did you know she plays Dungeons & Dragons?”

“Really?” Trunks said, wrinkling his nose. “Pretty nerdy, isn’t it? She’s a strange one.”

“She is,” Shawn agreed. “Did you really buy her  _ concealer _ last week?”

“Yeah,” Trunks said, laughing. “She has those dark under eye circles… She was starting to look like a zombie.”

“I think she was a little offended…”

Trunks shrugged.

“It’s always better if someone tells you there’s something wrong with your appearance,” he said easily. “Then you can fix it.”

Shawn blinked.

“You care a lot about your appearance, don’t you?” she asked, trying to keep some of the disdain out of her voice.

To her surprise, Trunks blushed.

“I do,” he said, a challenging edge to his voice. “You do too, don’t you?”

“Not as much as  _ you…”  _ Shawn muttered.

“You  _ stress out  _ about how you look,” Trunks muttered, shrugging. “But you don’t spend so much time looking nice. You’d feel better about yourself if you tried a little more. Didn’t wear…  _ sweat pants _ to dinner.”

“Excuse me?” Shawn sputtered, shocked. She could feel her cheeks getting warmer.

“It’s just… well. Sorry,” Trunks said, glancing at her. “Really. Sorry. But… that day you went shopping with 18? You looked nicer coming back from that. That pencil skirt.”

Shawn sat there in shocked silence. She had looked good in that skirt, she had thought. It was tight, but still professional-looking somehow. But she didn’t exactly want to be scolded into what to wear by… by  _ Trunks. _

“You’re too obsessed with looking good,” she snapped. “Always  _ combing  _ your hair before going out, looking anxiously at yourself in the mirror… Not very  _ manly _ …”

Trunks flushed.

“I didn’t think you would be such a gender-essentialist,” he said coolly. “I thought you were supposed to be all… social-justicey…”

“Oh,” Shawn said, her cheeks getting even warmer. “You discovered Tumblr, apparently. And now you want to get a PhD in the humanities. Typical.”

Trunks opened his mouth like he was going to snap at her, and Shawn could tell that she had hurt his feelings. But he closed his mouth.

“I’m… yes, I sort of take care of my appearance a lot,” Trunks said. “But… I don’t know. I think you… don’t realize how nice you can look.”

Shawn sat there in shocked silence.

“Particularly when you’re angry,” Trunks said, smirking at her. “Or frowning. You frowned a lot in… well, the shower. That time.”

“Yes, yes, I  _ remember,”  _ Shawn said, blushing.

She looked at her hands. She shouldn't say it. She shouldn't. She shouldn't. She was going to, though.  


“Did you really think I looked good, then? You said I was beautiful. But that… wasn’t real, right?”

“You looked amazing,” Trunks said, and there was a kind of tenderness to his voice that Shawn hadn’t anticipated. “All… slippery. And kind of confident. You knew what you wanted. It was… extremely hot.”

“Do you ever think of it, when you…” Shawn started, before she could stop herself. She was acting… kind of childish, she knew. Attention-starved, or something. “You know. When you’re alone?”

“Yeah,” Trunks said, looking at her in a way that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “You?”

“Oh…” Shawn said, blushing even deeper. “I don’t really think of myself when I… do that. I think of, you know. Other people. Porn stars. Like… I’m watching them, or something.”

“Oh,” Trunks said, still giving her a little look. “I see.”

“Well, I better be off,” Shawn said awkwardly, suddenly, hopping off of the countertop. Her underwear felt… mushy. She was wet, somehow, for some reason. She felt… unsettled. Dirty. A little sexy.

“Yep,” Trunks said, standing up and stretching slightly. He looked so unfazed. God. “Look over those corrections. We should meet tomorrow for a lesson. Noon work?”

“I’m training then… eleven okay?”

“Sure,” Trunks said, putting his hands in his pockets. “That Ellis coming over to help you train?”

“Yeah,” Shawn said, nodding. “And Lacy…”

“Maybe I’ll train with you once of these days,” Trunks said mildly. “Ellis said I could.”

Shawn licked her lips, which suddenly felt very dry. She shrugged.

“Sure, I guess,” she said, wandering towards her room. “We’re probably pretty under leveled for you, though…”

“See you at dinner,” Trunks called after her.

“Yep,” Shawn called back, wanting to crawl in her bed and place the covers over her blushing face.

\--

Trunks looked at the ground of the laundry room. There was a piece of lint on the carpet. He played with it with his foot.

“Smooth,” he muttered to himself, rolling his eyes.  _ See you at dinner _ . Well, it didn’t matter. He didn’t  _ like  _ her, or anything. It would be nice to fool around with her again, sure, but he wasn’t really sure how to instigate that. Just masturbate in the shower with her door unlocked? He had been, admittedly, doing that, but she hadn’t accidentally-on-purpose walked in on him.

Oh well. It didn’t matter, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I've always assumed Shawn was Jewish, and that her family's original last name was Rosen- or something like that, and just shortened to Rose. Before I went down the quarter-Saiyan rabbithole, I thought maybe she had PCOS. (PCOS is pretty common in the European-descended (Ashkenazi) Jewish community and causes a lot of things that Shawn has - weight fluctuations, facial hair, etc. I still sort of assume her mother at least had it (it would explain why her mother had so much facial hair) although Shawn probably either doesn't have it, or a pretty mild version of if.) 
> 
> (The main reason I did the quarter-Saiyan thing, besides the LOLs, was to invent a crises that caused Shawn to lose her job and home that the Briefs felt vaguely responsible for so that she could stay with them for a long time. The original plotline was also pretty funny, because it involved Vegeta accidentally setting her apartment on fire. It didn't really explain why she would lose her job though... if she had a stable paycheck, she would probably just get another apartment. Also the reason for Vegeta to go there in the first place was pretty tenuous. But I really wanted Shawn and Trunks to live together, just to make things more awkward and slow-burn-y. Also, it is really weird that Trunks is still living there, so I invented his little midlife crises to kind of explain that away.)
> 
>  
> 
> 2\. I think I may have screwed up the youngsters ages. I also think maybe their ages change from DBZ/GT/Super. So, bear with me. Here are the approx. ages of the "younger" generation...
> 
> Trunks - 28  
> Shawn - 28  
> Goten - 26/27?  
> Pan - 15/16  
> Marron - just turned 16  
> Bra - 14/15
> 
> So Bra's a Freshman/Year 1 of high school.
> 
> I might have said she was 12 before. Oh God, did I? I'll have to go back and check. But I've been wanting to age up Bra a bit so she can get into more "high school" plotlines (parties with drinking, making out, etc.). Pretty late to get her first period, too, but I kind of assume Saiyans/Saiyan descendants enter puberty a bit later because they age slowly. Dunno if that is canon or not.
> 
> 3\. I hope I'm not making Trunks really unlikable. In a weird way, I think I would - if I met him IRL - immediately dislike him. But I don't think he's a bad dude, just a bit odd. I definitely don't want to make him too perfect, though.
> 
> 4\. Thanks so much to my beta reader, DianaEFox!
> 
> 5\. Thanks so much to my amazing readers who leave such nice comments!
> 
> 5a. I'm not sure it's totally believable a "jock/cool kid" would be exiled from the "cool kids" for being gay in an urban, non-religious school these days. I don't know. People sometimes say how much farther kids have come these days (hooray!) but I live in a pretty liberal bubble so IDK. I was in high school over a decade ago. I've heard that the Youth are like pretty comfortable being bi/pan/questioning/gay, etc. Dunno, tho.


	26. We can’t have them being bad or selfish lovers, right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shawn and Trunks are talking in the laundry room more and more, and getting... riled up. This is awkward for Vegeta.
> 
> Bulma asks Vegeta what the hell has been going on with him lately.

It was Friday, and they were having an early dinner. Bra had some friends coming over for a “sleepover” and needed the first floor of the Compound to themselves. Vegeta was supposed to make them popcorn, or something. And the Woman needed to work on the baby-in-the-belly-spinning device later. Shawn worked on Friday evenings, and the Boy would probably go out at some point. Vegeta would train, or something. Take a walk. He didn’t want to admit he felt a bit lonely. It was just an evening.

“I have something to say,” Trunks said, clearing his throat and setting down his wine glass. They were new wine glasses, Vegeta dimly noticed. He didn’t mention it, though. He didn’t want the Woman getting ideas that he _noticed_ things like that. He also vaguely remembered Bulma telling him that Shawn had bought new glasses in return for the one she had smashed.

That had been pretty good, Vegeta thought. Smashing that glass. He was also vaguely aware Trunks was saying something about school which was surprising the Woman - but that was fine, she was in charge of most of the school stuff, anyway.

True, Shawn hadn’t leapt across the table and strangled Mai – that would have been better – but flinging something acidic into Mai’s eyes had been good enough. Fighting for her honor. And, presumably, fighting for Trunks. That was good. _His_ son was worth fighting over, surely! _Mai_ never would have had the passion necessary to fight for Trunks…

He had increasingly been thinking of Shawn as Trunks’s Woman. He was sure they hadn’t fucked yet, or even had any conversations about fucking, but it was in the air. The two of them had been spending hours together, presumably just… _talking._ The Boy had inherited that from his mother, his love of talking. They talked a lot in the laundry room, perched on that little counter near the washing machine, their knees touching.

He had wandered in there the other day, hunting for his spare armor.

“What the hell are you two doing?” he had snapped, them looking at him, startled. Shawn had blushed when he saw them and the Boy had watched her blush, almost smirking. Their heat had been heavy in the room, Shawn’s scent mixed with sharp, cutting anxiety; his son’s scent cut through with… what? Patience, determination? Intensity?

The Boy had smelled like he was hunting her, he had realized. Like he was waiting for the right time. And that was how he had looked at her, with that little smirk. Sizing her up. Watching. He could imagine his son circling that girl, waiting. She would be fidgeting and nervously playing with that hair of hers. Until she looked at him the right way, or said something, and he would leap at her, taking her, tearing her apart, making her his.

He approved of that. Very much. His son was a bit… soft in some ways. A bit feminine. His proclivities towards looking good, shopping, and chit-chatting didn’t _bother_ Vegeta, they just confused him. It wasn’t like his son wasn’t _strong,_ so it was okay. But he had seemed extra soft next to Mai… she always seemed to be in-charge.

And that was confusing, as well. Vegeta knew strong women were important for Saiyan men. His woman, Bulma, was in charge of their relationship, he _knew_ but would never admit to her. At first he had liked Mai. She was strong. He had thought, well, this was good. Excellent. Go forth and mate and have babies. But then cracks started to appear, cracks that he could smell before he could see. Trunks always assumed that Mai would want to do whatever he wanted to do, and she almost never did. But instead of fighting with her, or for her, he would kind of role over like a puppy. It was… odd.

And Shawn probably was… a bit of a eunuch. She pulled her hair when distressed, she had once bit her lower lip so hard she drew blood, and once Vegeta had seen her in the kitchen whacking her open palm with a wooden spoon, hard. Pain made her feel calmer, made her feel good. But she was a bit of a fighter, wasn’t she? She wasn’t _weak,_ the way that the eunuchs on Vegeta supposedly were. She yelled, she had thrown wine in Mai's face, she thought everything was war.

He had been thinking about that a lot, too. The eunuchs on Vegeta. Raditz and Nappa had told him the eunuchs, at the end of their… ‘schooling’ had been _happy_ to be punching bags and well, officer’s ‘pets.’ He wasn’t so sure anymore. He had read some of the pamphlets that Shawn had given to Trunks so long ago had wormed their way into his mind. All about richer people, upper classes, forcing their will on the lower classes. Maybe they were unhappy being eunuchs. Maybe they had been a bit like he had been, with Freeza.

Trapped.

“Oh, we’re just… talking,” Shawn had said after he had barked at them, asked what they were doing on that little countertop. The Boy hadn’t said anything, doubtlessly because he was irritated at him for interrupting their little sexual-tension-session.

“What do you need, Dad?” Yes, he had sounded a little irritated at him.

“My armor. I didn’t mean to put it in the hamper. It wasn’t that dirty. You should have known.”

Shawn had leaped off the counter and helped him find it in the pile of dirty clothes, and with every move she made Vegeta could smell her desire, stronger. Every time her legs separated slightly – just from taking a step, or leaning over to grab him his armor, it intensified. She was very wet, probably. She definitely didn’t have as good as a sense of smell as him or the Boy, or else she would have asked the Boy to get down and rummage around in the hamper, keeping her legs closed tight together and praying that not much of her scent seeped out. No, she didn’t seem to be aware. Clueless.

He had glanced at his son, feeling uncomfortable. The Boy was still sitting in the corner of the countertop, playing with a crack in the wall above his head with his left hand, looking up at it, refusing to look at him. Still, he seemed a little smug. As if thinking, ‘Look, Dad, I can make a woman horny. No hands, even!’

And the whole thing had been… very confusing because it had been _hot._ Very hot. So much… passion in that little room, covered up by casual polite conversation. Vegeta had left that little room turned on. Very turned on. He had tried to push it down as much as possible while in that little room, for what would Trunks think? That _he_ wanted Shawn?

But it hadn’t really been like that, it had more been… well, he had wanted _Trunks_ to grab Shawn and take her right there. It had been… paternalistic, maybe. Enjoy, son. Do you need anything, son? Condoms, lubricant? Considering this is Shawn-the-eunuch, whips? Go forth, have the best sex ever, have life-changing sex, make Shawn come and make her moan in your ear that she needs you, needs you more than air or water. You never had this much passion for Mai – or maybe she didn’t have this much passion for you? – and I’m here to tell you _this_ is it, this is what you want, _this_ is the Saiyan way to mate. So full of longing and passion and emotions it’s almost like war when you’re fucking. Just… fuck her. Go for it. Maybe you can put a baby in her stomach and her belly will get big and then eventually I’ll get to see you and her fuss over a baby and learn how to change diapers.

Like Bulma and his first time. Well, she hadn’t moaned that she needed him in her ear, but she had moaned how good he had been, how much _better_ he was than human men… and he had indeed put a baby inside of her. And _they_ had even done all this too, the looks over the dinner table and the horrors and thrills of living with someone you desperately want to fuck and not being able to fuck them… yet.

Did all this make him a pervert? He was getting turned on if not _by_ his son but _about_ his son. It was a fact that Saiyans tended to get a bit… turned on when around other people who were turned on. Sympathetic desire, it was called. There had been brothels on Vegeta built around that fact, Nappa had told him once.

There were jokes about feeling frisky when your commanding officer felt frisky.

But what about your _children_? What the hell did you do then?

Maybe this is why children on Vegeta tended to leave the nest early. Can’t have them around horning up the place.

But he liked living with Trunks and Bra, he… loved them.

He had no one to talk to about it. Everyone was dead. No one could help. And he – he! – was the expert on ‘Saiyan stuff.’ He was the man Gohan had come to, so worried, asking him haltingly how he could be sure not to hurt Videl in bed. He was the person a small and trembling Goten had asked if all humans could smell if people were ‘making love’ as he had haltingly put it, or just Saiyans. But he wasn’t an expert. He was totally at sea.

He had been having better sex with Bulma too, as a result of all the Shawn-and-Trunks ambient desire in the air. But he was becoming uncomfortably aware that she was _worried_ about his sudden increase of libido. She probably thought he was attracted to Shawn. Or someone else, and was taking it out on her. _Was_ that what was going on? He was “taking out” the sympathetic desire on her? Bah, it was so complicated. What could he tell her?

Well, I get a bit horny imagining my son plow into Shawn, but I promise I’m not a pervert. I’m… trying not to be, anyway.

I can smell when anyone is aroused – sorry I never told you, it felt too weird – but now I keep _smelling_ Shawn and our son salivating over each other.

No.

She would think he was disgusting, or, worse, see the horrific future.

What the hell are you going to do when _Bra_ gets older?

And that was true. Trunks was awkward, Bra would be worse. He could just tell. She was… well, female, and looked shockingly like a younger Bulma. What if the ambient sympathetic desire ran too close to… ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. He felt nauseous, suddenly. Maybe he would leave. Move out. So far it hadn’t been too bad with Bra, the overwhelming and constant teenage horniness always seeming less serious and effecting him less than the pointed, adult longing Shawn and Trunks were now displaying for each other. When Trunks was a teen and horny all the time Vegeta had been able to just roll his eyes at it. But now it was… different.

Maybe he was a bit… romantic, or something.

No. That couldn’t be right. He was the least romantic person her knew. That was what the Woman told him, anyway.

Still, his fantasies of Shawn and Trunks cooing over a little infant felt a bit romantic. What would a little toddler, a little combination of Shawn and Trunks call him? Grandfather? Grandpa? Would he take the little thing to martial arts tournaments, let the little creature sit on his knee? Buy it a… what was that thing the Boy had liked when he had been a child? Sickly-sweet? Cotton candy. Buy it one of those, and watch as it eats every piece of airy sugar.

“Vegeta!” Bulma snapped, sounding angry. “This is important. Trunks is talking about his future, about his plans, and you keep _spacing out!_ For God’s sake, act like you care about being a parent…”

Vegeta sighed, and grunted and tried to listen about doctoral programs in Writing, or something. Who cared? That wasn’t as important as the potential for grandbabies.

\--

Bulma stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Vegeta had propositioned her, again, right after dinner.

“Let’s fuck before you get to work,” he had whispered in her ear as she had placed dishes in the dishwasher. “Before Bra’s friends get here.”

That was good, right? She should be happy. Happy that her husband, who still _looked_ forty, still wanted her undeniably approaching-sixty-years-old-body. Well. Maybe not undeniably. She took very good care of herself.

Still, though.

Didn’t they say this was, paradoxically, a sign of cheating? Having more sex with one’s spouse? Cheating – or even _thinking_ about cheating, a lot – made people horny. And a rising tide raises all boats.

She had wrinkles. Her breasts sagged. She needed more lubrication now that she was post-menopause. They had always occasionally needed _some,_ he was so large, but now they needed more of it, and almost all the time. God, that had been embarrassing – Vegeta had taken it as a personal insult at first, and then she had had to _explain_ to him it was a part of getting older, a side effect of no longer being fertile. He had never mentioned it again, but started keeping a few different kinds of lube in the drawer of his nightstand. Warming ones, flavored ones… he seemed very willing to try anything. She had no idea how he had gotten them. He was notoriously bad at shopping. Stolen them, very probably.

She always assumed that she would use the Dragon to make her live longer, to make her aging better match Vegeta’s. But the kids made it feel stranger, now. Did she want to be only ten years older than her boy?

And she had mentioned it to Mai once, when Mai was still eleven (or eleven for the second time) and Mai had looked at her with those large child-like eyes, very serious and said, “Make sure that’s what you want.” And she hadn’t sounded eleven. She had sounded older than Bulma. Which, she might have been.

Kind of.

It had been… frightening.

She would have to ask Vegeta what was up. She would have to be serious, not too angry. She had tried the rage approach a few days ago and it just ended up with rage-sex.

She was wearing lingerie. A very thin and see-through pinkish slip. Vegeta liked it when she dressed up. She liked it too, although the juxtaposition with wrinkles on her décolletage and thin lace was… strange.

But she _definitely_ wanted to be wearing lingerie, now, for this. _If_ he was cheating on her, she wanted to look good while being devastated and screaming at him.

What if she was… destined to be cheated on? Yamcha certainly had cheated on her… Maybe it was her destiny, for being too pretty, having too much money, having an insane alien prince husband, two beautiful children… how many good things could one woman have?

Sighing, she opened the bathroom door.

Vegeta was lying on the bed, his arms behind his head.

He looked at her, his eyes taking on that wicked little sheen whenever he saw her dressed up.

“Hi,” he said lazily to her, patting the space next to him on the bed. “Come here.”

So authoritative, but kind at the same time. She liked that about him. Was he authoritative and kind with someone else? That was a… painful thought.

“We need to talk first,” Bulma said, sitting down on one of the little chairs next to the bed, trying to look… regal. “What’s been going on with you? Why are you so… horny and distracted all the time, all of a sudden? It’s been noticeable over the past few days, particularly. We had sex _twice_ on Tuesday…”

“You didn’t enjoy it?” Vegeta asked her, raising an eyebrow. He’s trying to distract you, Bulma told herself. Don’t let him.

“That’s not the point. What’s going on?”

Vegeta blinked at her, and then shrugged.

“Vegeta!” Bulma snapped. “You need to tell me.”

Vegeta opened his mouth, and then closed it. He opened it again. He flopped back on the bed, and, to Bulma’s astonishment, _covered_ his face with a pillow. He had never done that before.

Bulma waited for a moment, and then climbed on to the bed next to him, ripping the pillow off his face.

“It’s Shawn, isn’t it?” she snapped, tired of games. “You like her. She turns you on? You’re not _fucking_ her, are you?”

“No!” Vegeta moaned, and he was _blushing_ slightly. “Of course not…”

“Well, what?”

Vegeta covered his eyes with his hands. Bulma stared at him.

“Are you ill?” she snapped, wishing she didn’t sound so angry, but still angry at the same time. He was acting so… strange. “What’s with the face-hiding?”

“I’m… it’s… embarrassing,” Vegeta mumbled. He took his hands away, and Bulma noticed they were trembling slightly. “Just… just… I.” Vegeta swallowed. “Don’t make me stop seeing my children.”

“What?” Bulma asked, her heart sinking. God, he _was_ having an affair. Custody. That’s what he was worried about.

“Saiyans… Saiyans have this thing,” Vegeta started, haltingly, and Bulma interrupted him.

“Where they cheat on their wives?”

“I’m _not_ cheating on you!” Vegeta snapped, turning away from her. “You wouldn’t understand, you’ll think… I’m… _bad.”_

Bulma stared.

“Tell me,” she commanded. “Now. What thing?”

“It’s called… Sympathetic desire,” Vegeta mumbled. “We can… kind of smell it when other people are turned on. And... well, it makes us kind of horny.”

“That’s not strange at all,” Bulma said, sitting down next to him and frowning. “Humans can sense pheromones and things like that too. We’re not very conscious of it, though…”

“Of _anyone_?” Vegeta, asked turning around to face her.

“What do you mean?” Bulma asked, frowning.

“You can sense pheromones of any human?”

“I don’t know,” Bulma said, shrugging. “Like I said, it’s not a very conscious thing. It’s understudied, too.”

Vegeta looked at her, then looked away.

“I… well, I can tell when the kids are… riled up,” he said at last. “And… it’s been… kind of intense lately.”

Bulma stared at him.

“You can tell when _our children_ are horny? What do you mean? You can’t... like tell when they’re turned on, can you? Touching themselves or having sex?”

Vegeta made a little so-so motion with his hand.

“Eh,” he said. “Depends.”

“ _Bra_ doesn’t touch herself, does she?” Bulma was surprised that had flown out of her mouth. She had been wondering that herself, in the back of her mind. But she was still young, although she _dressed_ older than she was. She couldn't be, already, could she?

Vegeta rolled over and looked at her, looking wary and surprised.

“She’s _fourteen_ , Bulma…”

Bulma guessed that was old enough. But she was so… so… little, wasn’t she? Could she be fourteen? It seemed like just yesterday she had been a baby…

“And _you_ get _horny_ too when they do that?” Bulma asked, feeling… strange.

“Well… no. Not from them touching themselves. Not really. That’s like… normal stuff.” Vegeta said. He sighed. “I would have to be like in their room directly after or while they did that to be really affected by it, which obviously doesn’t happen much. But Trunks and Shawn are kind of… hot for each other. And they, you know. Lust for each other wherever they are. I can't help but be around it, sometimes. The kitchen. The laundry room.”

“They _have_ been talking in there for hours recently,” Bulma said, frowning. “I’ve noticed that. They’re… they want each other?”

Vegeta nodded at her, a strange combination of relief and apprehension crossing over his face.

“Even _Trunks_? I figured Shawn liked him… he’s good-looking, it’s not surprising…”

“Even Trunks,” Vegeta said flatly. “Trust me.”

“You probably do like Shawn then,” Bulma said frowning again. Another bubble of worry exploded inside of her. “ _Smelling_ her… horniness, or whatever. You _smile_ at her sometimes. You never smiled at _me_ like that.”

“Bulma, I _don’t_ want Shawn,” Vegeta said, sighing loudly. “I want _Trunks_ to have her.” He licked his lips. “That is the weird thing. I sometimes… feel a little tug, or something. I _want_ them to mate with each other. I want them to be good lovers to each other. I… want them to have a baby.”

“What?” Bulma asked, astonished.

“I think… I don’t know. I think they would be good together. Can’t you see them, with a baby? They’d fight over the best way to hold it. We could… you know, show them how to hold it. Help them… feed it. Or whatever.”

Bulma stared.

“You want to be… a _grandfather_ ?” she gasped. “You were never that interested in being a _father_!”

Vegeta didn’t say anything for a few minutes.

“But… like… just imagine the Boy trying to learn how to change a diaper,” Vegeta said at last. “Or holding a little crying thing. It’d be… funny. Cute, kind of.”

Vegeta looked up at her confused face.

“I was thinking, if they do get together,” he continued, and Bulma was alarmed that his eyes were _sparkling,_ “we could built them a little house on the grounds,” he continued, his hand tapping the wall above his head. “We could babysit any kids they produce when they are at work, or whatever. Bra could watch them too, sometimes, be, you know, an aunt. The grounds are big enough to give them some privacy…”

Bulma laughed slightly, feeling lightheaded.

This was… unexpected.

It was… he was acting… paternal.

He was acting… old. Like… well, like someone who wanted to be a grandfather. He was planning to get them a _house_ for heaven’s sake. What would be next, he would take up fishing? Gardening? Playing Yahtzee and bingo at the senior center?

“You weren’t like this with Trunks and Mai,” Bulma said, glancing at him. “He almost _proposed_ to her.”

“He… They… I don’t think they had a lot of… passion for each other,” Vegeta said at last. “At first, sure, when they were young and figuring out how sex worked, yeah. But after that… not much. And never quite like Shawn and Trunks. It’s… I don’t know. It’s different, somehow. I’m not sure why.”

“Why did you think I wouldn’t let you see the kids anymore?” Bulma asked, frowning.

“It’s… odd, this sympathetic desire stuff. It feels… similar, maybe, to getting turned on by… you know… the kids.”

Vegeta couldn’t look at her when he said the last part.

“Well… you don’t _want_ to, though, right? Have sex with Shawn or Trunks? Or watch, even?”

“No, no,” Vegeta said, shuddering, making a face. “Although I would like to be certain Trunks knew how to please a woman. What if he needs... help? Tips?”

“That’s traditionally done the night before the wedding,” Bulma said dryly. “The Talk. Mothers with their daughters, fathers with their sons.”

Vegeta glanced at her, frowning.

“Really? I thought humans didn’t like even acknowledging that their children had sex drives. You were mad at me that time I told you Trunks was probably jerking off in the shower and that’s why he took such long showers… You were irritated he was using all the hot water…You got that new, larger boiler for hot water...”

“He was _thirteen_!”

“Yeah. Isn’t that… right? The right age?”

“Ugh, I guess so,” Bulma said, flopping down on the bed. “I guess the official line would that humans like it when their nice, adult, married children have sex. But usually not other than that…”

Vegeta frowned and looked at her.

“Wouldn’t you be worried, though, if Bra was… say, eighteen, and had _never_ touched herself? Wouldn’t you think that was… unusual? _I_ would. It seems very natural to want to know what your body can do. What it can… feel like.”

Bulma thought about that for a few seconds.

“I guess so,” she agreed. “I guess it’s something… I don’t know. We just don’t like to think about it.”

“I’m glad you don’t think I’m… perverted.” Vegeta said. “I walked in on Shawn and the Boy, talking in the laundry room and it was… pretty intense.”

“So they just… talk and kind of want each other?” Bulma asked, putting her head on Vegeta’s chest. He started dragging his hand through her hair.

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you think they’ve… you know. Gotten together?”

“I think the Boy is waiting for the right time. And, I don’t know. Shawn seems… anxious. Frightened.”

“That reminds me of us, a bit,” Bulma said, smiling a bit, closing her eyes. “Living together, wanting each other…”

She thought of something. She sat up.

“Wait!” she cried.

Vegeta smirked at her. He knew what she was going to say, then.

“You could _always_ do this? You could _always_ tell when people around you were turned on?”

“Or had just had sex, yes,” Vegeta said, still smirking.

“You _knew_?!” Bulma cried. “When… before we had….”

Vegeta shrugged, his eyes looking sharper and wickeder by the minute. _Teasing_ her. That bastard!

“Well… why didn’t you… what took you so long? It was over a year, we were living together before we finally slept together, wasn’t it?”

“I was… a bit apprehensive. Waiting for the right time,” Vegeta said finally, reaching up to stroke her face. “I… felt like you were the real deal. I wasn't really ready for it.”

“Do you think Trunks and Shawn think each other are the real deal?” Bulma asked, placing her head on Vegeta’s chest once more.

“I don’t know. Love doesn’t really have a smell. Tenderness does. And desire. Admiration. They feel those things for one another, though. At times. Not always.”

“I had a private investigator investigate Shawn,” Bulma said, smiling slightly. “In case she tried to swindle us out of money. Or try to marry Trunks for his money.”

“She doesn’t really seem like the type,” Vegeta said, his hand tugging on her earlobe.

“No, probably not. I think I like her. The report was clean, although pretty sparse. She’s done some drugs in the past, nothing too serious. The thing about her maternal grandmother seems all… correct. Was institutionalized, had bad schizophrenia. Had to be moved to another country, at one point, because of World War II. Her parents are Jewish, did you know? Her father’s mother joined the circus when to try and escape the Nazis. Lots of interesting history in there.”

“Mmmm,” Vegeta said, his hand now trailing down her neck. “I’m… glad we talked,” he said. That surprised Bulma. He wasn’t usually so… reflective about his feelings. “I was… worried.”

“It was sweet, you wanting to be a grandpa,” Bulma laughed, teasing him. “You’re an old man.”

“Not too old for this, I think,” he growled, flipping her over and climbing on top of her.

About twenty minutes later, Bulma was staring up at the ceiling happily. If she was a smoker, she would have a cigarette dangling from her lips. That had been… _good._ Vegeta had been more… _something_ than usual. Emotional, maybe. He had kept looking in her eyes and murmuring her name in her ear. And she was… relieved. He wasn’t cheating, apparently. He was instead… worried about the kids. That was okay. Sure, it was… a bit weird about the sympathetic desire thing, and that he could _tell_ when they were… turned on, but… It wasn’t his fault, right? It was natural for a Saiyan, apparently.

“I just thought of something,” Bulma said, laughing slightly. She glanced over at Vegeta, who was reading something on his datapad. “It’s a good thing the kids, can’t, you know. Smell it when _we_ have sex or are horny.”

Vegeta blinked and her and winced.

“I think… they probably can,” he said finally.

Bulma stared at him, her mouth hanging open, horrified.

“But it’s probably healthy for them to know we fuck, right? Then they will know it’s important to sexually please your spouse… We can’t have them being bad or selfish lovers, right? That wouldn’t be right. They are descended from the Prince of All Saiyans, it’s important that they—“

“Stop,” Bulma commanded, covering her face with her hands and wondering if she would be able to look either of her children in the eye tomorrow. Or ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This sort of awkwardness is what I originally wanted this story to be largely about (and it still is, I think). I started reading lots of fics wherein Saiyans could smell people when they were turned on or recently had sex, and I started thinking how odd that would be when you have teenage and adult children. It's a strange thing because it's difficult to not smell something, you know? I suppose you could plug your nose, but still. 
> 
> Things to note:
> 
> 1\. Bulma got a better water boiler after teenage Trunks was jerking off in the shower and taking long showers. Then, as an adult, he once got head in the shower and was amazed the water was warm at the end of it. Continuity! 
> 
> 2\. When Bulma was listing positive things about her life she included that she was married to an insane alien prince. For Bulma, that's definitely a positive, not a negative.
> 
> 3\. Vegeta is such a troll. Why does he want Shawn and Trunks to have a kid? So he can observe them bickering over it and see his son learning how to change diapers. What. A. Troll. 
> 
> 4\. The move Trunks did in the laundry room - playing with a piece of the wall behind him and looking at it is, in my mind, the same move Han Solo does in Ep IV while he is distracting that Rodian he kills. I love that move.
> 
> 5\. This maybe should have been the first note. Considering demisexuality is a tag on this story, and demisexuality is a plotline, I really wondered about including the lines about "Wouldn't you think it was odd if Bra hadn't touched herself by age 18?" Because I am aware some people probably haven't. And that's fine! But I think Vegeta and Bulma aren't too hip with asexuality/gray-ace discourse. They're both such sexual people, and I think they both have this fault where they assume people ought to be like themselves. Vegeta, in particular, I think would have a hard time wrapping his head around asexuality.
> 
> 6\. I copy-and-paste works into the "rich text" option on A03. I've noticed that when I have italics immediately preceding a punctuation mark, it will include a space. Sorry I don't always catch them, I know it looks distracting. I wonder why it does that?
> 
> 7\. I don't know if it's a trope that people who were less-interested parents really love being grandparents. But it feels right for Vegeta to me, for some reason. Less... pressure? I don't know.
> 
> 8\. I keep adding notes to this because, apparently, I love writing about my writing. (I'm a bit self-involved, maybe?) But in a previous chapter(s) both Bra and Trunks had a thought like "Married people fuck at inconvenient times," as in, they both really think the normal, appropriate thing for married people to do is to fuck, like, a lot. So Vegeta's right - their sense of smell and their exposure to their parents has influenced them. They sort of both assume married people must fuck constantly.


	27. Taco Bell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bra gets ready to go out with her friends, and realizes Adelaide has some assets she hadn't anticipated. Trunks, exiled from his home, pays Krillin and 18 a visit. Goten calls him with some alarming Taco-Bell-related-news. Trunks goes to the strip club to see Shawn and spends a lot of time with Lacy.

“Just so you know, Dad, we might go for a walk later,” Bra told her father easily. She could see Adelaide looking at her, worriedly. Jesus, Adelaide, Bra thought. Get it together.

“Neat. Be safe out there,” Vegeta said, handing her the bowl of popcorn. “I’ll be training. Your mother’s working. You have a phone, right? Call her if you need anything. Don’t bother me.”

“Yep,” Bra said, grinning.

“K,” Vegeta said, wandering off towards the workout room.

“See?” Bra said, setting down the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and looking proudly at her ragtag collection of friends. “Easy. We can leave when we’re ready, and nobody will even care.”

“Where’s your brother, though?” John said frowning. “He’s… you know. An adult.”

Typical that John would be interested in Trunks’s coming and goings, Bra thought, mentally rolling her eyes. John liked Trunks, and smiled at him too much.

“I think he’s going out,” Bra said, frowning. “Let’s find out. TRUNKS!” she called.

Trunks wandered out, his hands in his pockets.

“Hi, guys,” he said, smiling at all of them. “Do you… need anything? Did Dad make you popcorn?”

“Yeah, it was weird. I’m pretty sure we can figure out how to make it,” Bra said, rolling her eyes. “Are you going out tonight? I thought you were going out with Goten?”

“No. He’s going to a meetup, but I’m not going.”

“What kind of meetup?” Bra asked, frowning. That didn’t sound like Goten. Sure, he was extraverted and liked going out, but none of them were really the type that… that  _ joined _ things. Saiyan-descendants tended not to.

“Some kind of neighborhood sports thing,” Trunks said, shrugging. “Hockey in the winter and kickball in the summer. I guess they zone these things based on neighborhood, so it didn’t make sense for me to go. I’d be in another league, or something.”

“So you’re staying  _ in _ ?” Bra asked, her heart sinking. 

“I thought I might go see Shawn perform later.”

“Uh-huh,” Bra said, trying not roll her eyes. Of course he was. “Didn’t you go yesterday?”

“No. I went Wednesday… I don’t know. Do you think it’s weird if I go too much?”

“I don’t know,” Bra said, staring at Trunks. Why was he asking her? In front of all her friends, like this? Why did he care what  _ she _ thought? “Does she seem… happy to see you when you go?”

“Yeah,” Trunks said, shrugging. “But, you know. That might be mostly because she probably makes more money, when I’m there…”

“You pay her?” Bra, asked, surprised. “For… what? Her shows?”

“Well, yeah, they pass a hat around, but also just, like… to talk. You have to pay them to talk to them. It’s… you know, that kind of place.”

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” Bra crowed, before she could stop herself. It would be better for all of them if he  _ did _ go. But, come on. It  _ was _ pretty hilarious. He literally  _ lived _ with her! “My guess is she doesn’t mind you going and talking to her if you’re paying for it. Jesus, Trunks. Don’t you talk to her enough, here at home, for free?”

“Oh, shut up,” Trunks muttered, blushing. “I can’t  _ pester _ her at work without paying her…”

“Right,” Bra said, nodding. “Very wise. So… are you going out, then? We want the house to ourselves.”

“Oh, for what? Playing  _ Dungeons & Dragons _ ?” Trunks spat out.

“Yeah,” Bra said easily. “It can get pretty, you know, intense.”

“Oh, fine,” Trunks said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll go out… I’ll go visit Krillin and then see Shawn.”

“Great,” Bra said. “Say hi to Shawn for me.”

“Uh-huh,” Trunks said, his hands in his pockets, heading back to his room.

“Where does Shawn work? She’s your cousin, right?” John asked once Trunks was gone.

“Not really,” Bra said. “Not really a cousin. More like… the long-lost child of a family friend.” Ensuring that people knew that Shawn wasn’t their  _ cousin _ might be important when Trunks and Shawn inevitably started fucking, or got married or whatever.

He  _ paid _ her to talk to her! Huh. And Shawn  _ still  _ flitted around the house, anxious and worried about her appearance. Weird.

“She works at a strip club,” Bra said, tossing a piece of popcorn and trying to catch it in her mouth. It bounced off her nose. “That’s why he has to pay her…”

“I thought she swallowed swords…” Adelaide said, frowning.

“She does. She doesn’t strip. But she like wears a little  _ outfit _ and swallows swords. She works with a fire juggler.”

“I wish we were going  _ there _ ,” Richard said, exhaling loudly and peering at his laptop. “That sounds more fun than going to some seedy bar…”

“You just want to see strippers, Richard,” Bra said sternly. “Besides, they card there.”

“You don’t think we’ll go to jail, do you?” Adelaide said, shifting uncomfortably in on the couch.

“No,” Bra said, rolling her eyes. “Besides, my uncle is a cop. We’ll be fine, don’t worry… now, come on… let’s change into our going-out outfits.”

The boys hadn’t brought different clothes, which horrified Bra. They were so… ugh. John didn’t look too bad, but Richard seemed determined to wear his tattered old theater club tee-shirt.

“You can’t wear that,” Bra had said patiently, “they will know you’re in high school. You’re wearing a tee-shirt that says the name of our school on it…”

“Maybe I bought it ironically from Salvation Army,” Richard had said, rolling his eyes. Bra had rummaged through Trunk’s spare things before finding a plain black tee-shirt she coerced him into wearing.

Now she and Adelaide were in Bra’s bathroom, experimenting with different tops and makeup.

“I feel like my face is too round for blush,” Adelaide was saying.

Bra, whose mouth was hanging open as she applied some purple mascara onto her long lashes, didn’t say anything for a second, stealing a glance at Adelaide.

“Well, it does make your face look fatter when you wear it like  _ that _ ,” she said, putting down the mascara. 

“You’ve got to put it farther up the cheekbone…”

Bra reached over and possessively started wiping away some of the offending blush.

“Thanks, Bra,” Adelaide sighed. “I am really bad at this stuff…”

“Look what I found in Shawn’s room,” Bra said, once she was done. She pulled out two pairs of silicone patties from her bathroom drawer. “They’re those, like, things that push up your boobs. She has several of them – I think she probably wears them when she’s performing at that place…”

“Oh,” Adelaide said, blushing and looking down at her chest. “I don’t know, this shirt is already pretty low-cut…”

“Oh, come  _ on,”  _ Bra sighed impatiently, slipping the cutlets into her (admittedly small) bra. She made a face as she fiddled with her boobs. When she was done she admired her handiwork in the mirror.

“Huh,” she said at last, turning to one side. “You can kind of see the outline of them…”

“I think maybe you need to be a little bigger for them to work,” Adelaide said, looking apologetic. She hesitatingly grabbed the other pair and turned around. “All right,” she grumbled, “I’ll try them…”

“…Wow,” Bra said, looking at Adelaide’s chest. “You should wear them all the time.”

“They’re a little uncomfortable,” Adelaide said, shifting in her seat. “You  _ really _ don’t think this shirt is too low?”

“It’s not really that low,” Bra said. “You probably wouldn’t even get a demerit for it at school. It’s only a few inches below your collarbone.”

“Hmm…” Adelaide said, looking at herself in the mirror and flushing slightly. “It does make my necklace look good, no?”

“Yeah,” Bra agreed. Nestled in between her boobs. It was a little pendant of a sun.

They wandered out into the living room, with makeup, curly hair, and (in Adelaide’s case) higher boobs.

“You two look nice,” John said, grinning.

“I really like that necklace, Adelaide,” Richard said, blinking at Adelaide. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before.”

“She wears it every day, you doofus,” Bra said, sighing. Men. “All right, let’s get out of here.”

\--

“Sorry about just stopping by like this…” Trunks said, leaning back in his chair.

“No problem,” Krillin said, handing Trunks a beer. “We’re always happy to see you.” 

Marron was out on a date or something, leaving 18 and Krillin alone. They did see very happy to see him, though. Well. Krillin did. 18 never looked particularly happy.  


“How’s Shawn?” 18 asked, pouring herself a glass of white wine. 

“Good. Working. I think I might go see her later.” 

“Oh, really?” Krillin asked. “I didn’t know she performed so regularly… should we all go?”

“It’s at a strip club, Krillin,” 18 said, tossing her hair out of her eyes.

“Really?” Krillin asked, blushing. “Oh. She…?”

“She doesn’t strip,” 18 said, and Trunks noticed that her voice was vaguely protective, authoritative. “She does a raunchier version of her show and talks to customers. She acts as a waitress sometimes.”

“You know a lot about it,” Trunks said, laughing. 

“I’ve been there,” 18 said, shrugging. “I’ve seen her there.”

“You  _ have _ ?” Krillin asked, blushing slightly. “To a… strip club?”

“Yeah,” 18 said, and Trunks got the impression that she was enjoying this, enjoying  _ shocking _ her husband. Aw. It was kind of cute. To be married for so long and still getting a kick out of shocking your spouse. “I went to their earliest show last night. You were working the late shift. You don’t…  _ mind, _ do you? I don’t like women in that way...”    


“They have couples pricing,” Trunks teased, laughing slightly. “Couples do go…” 

“We could go, Krillin, if you want,” 18 said, shrugging, and Krillin’s face got even redder. “I don’t mind. Not the same time as Trunks, though. That’s like… generation-crossing. Weird.”

“Yamcha apparently used to go pretty regularly,” Trunks said, scratching his chin. “I haven’t seen him there. It’s kind of, you know. Classier than the average strip club.”

“Shawn likes it okay enough, anyway,” 18 said, as if that was the only thing that mattered. Well. Maybe it was. “She doesn’t make a ton of money there, but it’s pleasant enough.”

“You hear about this event Bra’s planning?” Trunks asked. “The fight?”

“Yeah,” Krillin said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t really want to fight…”

“ _ I  _ want to fight you,” 18 laughed, and Trunks thought again what a happy couple they seemed, so different than his parents’ happy relationship. He wondered if he would ever be in a happy relationship again… Mai and him had been happy, at least at first. Then things had kind of… stagnated.

The three of them chatted about Bra’s event for a while when Trunks’s cell phone rang. Goten. 

“Uh, I better take this,” Trunks said, rising from his seat. “Goten had a… an event he was going to and was… um. Worried about it. Mind if I take this in the other room?”

“Go for it,” Krillin said, shrugging and opening another beer. 

“Hi, man,” Trunks said, switching on his phone and walking quickly into the living room. “How’s it going?”

“Um…” Goten’s voice said through the phone, and it sounded… tentative. 

“How… how was the meetup?” Trunks said, frowning. Goten certainly  _ sounded _ like he was at a bar -- there was lots of background noise. “Was it… okay?”

“Well,” Goten said, and his voice still had that tentative edge to it that Trunks couldn’t quite place. “It was… um. Good. Really good. I talked to a bunch of people, which was nice… um. But, um.”

“What?” Trunks asked, frowning. Goten sounded… stressed.

“Apparently this place doesn’t card very aggressively… and apparently high schoolers come here because of that…”

“Yeah?” Trunks said, frowning at the phone. He would have guessed that what Goten was about to say was that he accidentally made out with a teen at the bar, but considering the reason why he was there, that didn’t seem likely.

“Bra and a bunch of her friends came here.” Goten finally spit out. “They were already a bit tipsy by the time I noticed them.”

“Oh my God, really?” Trunks said, laughing. “Are.. are they okay?”

“Um,” Goten said, and Trunks started to internally panic a bit. 

“Are they okay? They’re not… not in trouble, are they?”

“No,” Goten said. “No. There has been some… drama among the group, however. Apparently this one girl, Addie or something --”

“Adelaide,” Trunks corrected. 

“Yeah, she apparently kissed Bra’s other male friend but then also kissed Bra in the ladies room or something and there were lots of tears and yelling. But then, suddenly, everything was okay with them, but then… well, Bra hit someone.”

“What? Who? Her friend? Adelaide? The straight guy? Richard?” John, Bra's gay male friend, would probably be uninvolved in the hellish kissing-triangle Goten was describing...  


“No, some rando. I’m not sure what happened. Everything happened so fast, and they were all talking about high school bullshit, so it was pretty confusing....”

“Oh,  _ God.  _ Are they calling the cops?” Trunks snapped, uncomfortably aware that Krillin and 18 could probably overhear him. 

“No, no,” Goten said. “He was also a teen so he just sort of... scampered off. It actually was pretty funny. Everyone is okay, I think. I think I’ll take them all back to your place and sort of make sure they don’t fool around with each other or kill each other or anything. Where are you?”

“Krillin’s. I was planning on seeing Shawn later…”

“Oh, you should still go,” Goten said immediately. “I know… you know. You like seeing her. Definitely, definitely go.”

Trunks stared at the phone in his hand, mystified. 

“Goten, I don’t mind coming home…”

“No, no. I can handle this. I’ll make sure they eat some carbohydrates and don’t kill each other. Everyone seems calmed down now. They want me to take them to Taco Bell and then go home and let them play video games.”

“How drunk are they?” Trunks said, rolling his eyes. Taco Bell. They sneak out, go to a  _ bar,  _ Bra gets into a fight, and what ends up happening? Goten takes them to Taco Bell. Bra was lucky, wherever she went. If it had been  _ him  _ who had gotten caught sneaking out and getting drunk at fourteen his father probably would have forced him to do about a million push-ups. Trunks didn’t have to do much wrong to be commanded to do push-ups by his father.

“I think they’re faking it more than they feel it because it’s new and exciting. Honestly, I think they’re basically sober at this point. Should I tell your parents?”

Trunks sighed. 

“If you have to, you know, if they’re around. I’ll talk to the kids tomorrow. What time are they getting picked up tomorrow morning?”

Trunks heard Goten chatting with a louder-than-usual-Bra.

“Eleven in the morning,” Goten said. 

“Fine. I’ll either talk to them tonight… or tomorrow,” Trunks said, wondering when exactly this had become  _ his _ responsibility. He felt… old. 

“Cool. I’ll stay over at your place, I’ll sleep on the couch in the den. These little monsters will be in the living room, so they’ll have some privacy but I’ll still be close by.”

“Are you  _ sure  _ you don’t want me to come home?” Trunks asked, frowning. 

“I really don’t,” Goten sighed. “I’ve got it under control. You go, have fun.”

“Okay…” Trunks said, saying goodbye to Goten and signing off. Huh. Goten had seemed so  _ insistent  _ that he go see Shawn. Weird. 

He walked into the kitchen, to be greeted by Krillin and 18 starting at him eagerly. God, they were such gossips. 

\--

Lacy enjoyed fire-breathing, fire-eating, and juggling. Circus tricks. But unlike Shawn, and Ellis, where it was something they  _ loved _ with every fiber of their being, she just liked it.

She  _ loved _ flirting. Stripping was okay, lap dances were fun, but  _ flirting…  _ that was the best. She liked thinking she was rooting around in men’s psyche, figuring out what they wanted from her, what they wanted her to be like.

This one wanted her to be shy and wide-eyed.

That one wanted her to be outrageously confident.

That one wanted her to be mean.

She was good at knowing what men wanted… what they needed.

And so, when she saw Trunks sitting at the bar looking uncomfortably at his drink and looking… wretched, Lacy knew what had happened. And she knew, she thought, how to fix it. Shawn wouldn’t like it, though – but she would get over it. Eventually.

Hah! Shawn, tall and awkward Shawn, overly muscular and vaguely-mannish Shawn, had  _ two _ regulars tonight. It was just her luck. She almost never had any, but that balding man who liked talking to her had come tonight and she had been talking to him for almost forty-five minutes when Trunks appeared, looking around for her.

She hadn’t seen Trunks, which was probably good. Shawn wasn’t very good at flirting at the best of times, and she had just let the balding man stroke her hair, which would hopefully mean a better tip. Good for her, Lacy thought. She thought this was the first time Shawn had let  _ any _ client touch her. And he seemed like a good client – clean, respectful, never got too drunk… he seemed like a safe man. A good client to let touch your hair.

But Trunks had  _ paled _ slightly when he had seen the man stroking Shawn, Lacy had noticed out of the corner of her eye.

Ugh, men.

Sure, Shawn didn’t have lots of admirers, but he must have put two-and-two together and realized she had _some._ He should have realized he might see _someone_ chatting her up. Who was that one who had liked Shawn, before? The baseball player? Yam-something. He had been okay, too… But really, without a few dependable tippers in this place you wouldn’t make _any_ money.

She finished chatting to a man who was quickly approaching sloppiness and headed over to the bar.

“Hi, Trunks,” she said, sliding into the seat next to him. “Came to see our show tonight?”

“Mmm,” Trunks said, looking a bit embarrassed. “Yeah. Who is Shawn talking to?”

“A client,” Lacy said, in a sing-song voice, smirking at him slightly.

“She lets him touch her hair?”

Oh, you poor baby, Lacy thought.

“He doesn’t threaten her, I guess…” Lacy said, trailing her finger on the bar in front of Trunks. “He doesn’t make her nervous. Not like  _ you,”  _ she said, teasing, playfully hitting him on the shoulder. “ _ You _ make her nervous. In a good way. She told me about that time in the shower.”

“Ah… yeah,” Trunks said, shifting in his seat slightly.

“Want me to tell you what she said?” Lacy said, glancing up at Ellis, who was cleaning a glass not too far away from her. He was frowning slightly. She had told him about her little plan for Trunks if something like this happened; he thought it was… not nice. That Shawn would get upset. He was wrong, Lacy was sure. This could work… it  _ should  _ work, if Shawn didn’t get too… silly.

“Um…” Trunks said, laughing slightly, looking… apprehensive.

“I’ll tell you if you buy a dance with me,” Lacy said, leaning forward and whispering in Trunks’s ear. “I know… a  _ lot _ about Shawn, you know,” she whispered. “Did you know, for example, she waxes?” Trunks gave a sharp little intake a breath when she said that. Oh,  _ man,  _ she had this in the bag.

God, he wanted Shawn  _ so _ badly. It  _ radiated _ off of him.

“It’s easier to wear some of those little hot pants she wears when she’s performing if she’s nice and waxed,” Lacy continued, still pressing her face close to Trunks’s ear. “I’ve seen her change, you know… it’s very smooth all… the… way… down… and then,” Lacy paused and looked at Trunks, right in the eye, “just very light purple little lips. Like a little present.” A little moan escaped from Trunks’s mouth as she said that. Hah-hah, she thought, triumphant.

That was  _ probably _ not too much, Lacy thought. Well… it was on the edge. Most people in their industry waxed, even Shawn wore high-cut things occasionally… if he thought about it for two seconds, he could probably had put that together. The color of her labia, though… maybe that was too much. Maybe Shawn would be angry. But it was right on the edge of being okay (because, honestly, how many colors of labia  _ were _ there? Not many…) and Lacy was very, very good at being right at the edge.

Shawn would thank her, later, anyway, when Lacy had finally riled Trunks up enough, encouraged him enough to make a pass at Shawn. 

Trunks licked his lips, looking at her.

“I’ll buy a dance,” he murmured. Oh, of course he would. “If you keep talking like that.”

She led him towards the back rooms, hoping Shawn wouldn’t see until either or herself Ellis had a chance to warn her.

\--

“Well? What did she say?” Trunks murmured in her ear, as she rubbed against him.

“She said you were large,” Lacy said, grinning at him. “I can tell that, too.”

“Mmm…” Trunks said, sighing happily. “What else?”

“She thought you were a gentleman,” Lacy continued, placing one foot on the bench next to Trunks and stood up in front of him, doing some body-rolls and quickly taking off her bikini top. Trunks murmured something Lacy couldn’t make out as she did so.

“You listened to her,” Lacy continued. “She thought you were a bit fake-y, though…”

“Fake-y?” Trunks murmured, still looking at her tits. A multitasker. Able to talk and look at the same time. She had figured he must be, if he had been able to talk so dirtily to Shawn until the very end (a lot of guys, in Lacy’s experience, had to stop dirty talking for the minute or so directly before coming).

“She thought you told her she was pretty just because it was the nice thing to do,” Lacy continued, placing her hands on Trunks’s shoulder. “She really values honesty.”

“No, no, I thought she looked good…” Trunks murmured.

“I  _ bet  _ you did, while you were fucking her face so hard,” Lacy murmured in his ear. “I bet you fucking loved it…”

“Mmm… hmm…” Trunks groaned again. “She took me  _ so _ deep…”

“And she told me she loved every moment of it,” Lacy murmured, her eyes sparkling. “She loved licking you, tasting you, hearing you groan… You can touch my boobs, you know, Trunks….”

“I… well…”

“Come on,” Lacy said, cooing in his ear, “pretend they’re Shawn’s. What would you like to do her tits? You wouldn’t be all  _ coy _ and  _ gentle  _ with her, would you?”

He touched her, roughly squeezing her. Atta boy, Lacy thought.

“Tell me what you like about Shawn,” Lacy commanded, as Trunks traced the outline of her nipples with his thumbs, looking flushed. “What parts of her.”

“I like her eyes,” Trunks murmured, one of his hands dropping to stroke her stomach. “They’re large and brown…”

“Such a romantic…”

“Well, I also like her tits and her ass,” Trunks said, laughing slightly. “Her hair.”

“Ugh, that hair is out of control,” Lacy agreed. “You know I make out with her onstage sometimes. I put my hands in her hair.”

“I know, I’ve seen you do that…” Trunks murmured, sighing again. “It’s so hot, but I get so fucking jealous....”

“I love it, I love her hair…” Lacy continued. “We’ve offered to fuck her, you know. Ellis and me. Would you like to see me all pressed up against her? Sucking on her tits? Lapping at her little clit? Maybe you could come in the room at…  _ just _ the right moment, and… what? What would you do?”

“Mmmm…” Trunks said, sighing again. He was pretty hard. God, he  _ was  _ big. “Knock you off of her,” he murmured. “Tell her she’s mine, and she’s been very, very naughty for letting you fuck her… and that I’ll have to be very, very thorough with her as a punishment...”

“I bet she would  _ love _ that,” Lacy sighed, smiling. 

To her surprise, Trunks let out a little barking laugh.

“Don’t tell her I said that unless you’re sure she wouldn’t be, like… offended,” he said, and Lacy was surprised to hear an anxious edge to his voice. “I think Shawn likes… likes that kind of talk…”

“She does, she told me she had never been wetter in her entire  _ life _ after you called her a little slut in that shower…”

“Oh,” Trunks sighed, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. “And I like it too, it’s… new for me. That style of dirty talk. But I worry she’ll think I’m…”

“Serious?”

“Mmm,” Trunks murmured in agreement. “Like, a… a misogynist.”

“She wouldn’t let you come near her if she thought you were a misogynist,” Lacy assured him, laughing slightly. “I wouldn’t let that bother you…”

“Hmm,” Trunks said, resting his hands on her breasts again. “Have you ever seen the scar on her back?”

That surprised Lacy. She hadn’t… well, she hadn’t expected that.

“I have,” Lacy said, pausing.

“How big is it?” Trunks murmured. “I haven’t seen the whole thing…”

“I’m not sure she would like me to tell you that…” Lacy whispered.

“You told me about her  _ pussy _ …”

“Well, just the color. How many varieties are there?” Lacy said, hoping he wouldn’t get funny about this. 

Maybe she should have just told him… but Shawn was sensitive about her scar, a bit. It was… bad-looking. Looked painful. She always wore very high-waisted pants to cover it up. She even wore high-waisted two-piece bathing suits at the beach.

“That’s true,” Trunks said, smiling a bit. Oh thank God you’re not an asshole, Lacy thought…

OK… now I have to get this back on-track, Lacy thought to herself.

“Can I tell you something you won’t tell her?” Trunks murmured. “Like,  _ really _ won’t tell her?”

“Yeah,” Lacy lied.

“I’m afraid my father has a crush on her,” Trunks said, sighing now in a different way, sadly. “She doesn’t like…  _ him _ , does she?”

“Oh…” Lacy said, standing there, feeling… a bit strange. She heard the song ending. Well… “The dance is actually over….”

“I’ll buy another…”

“She’s a bit frightened of your father,” Lacy said, not sure if she should keep… dancing, or what. “She thinks he’s a bit… interested in the fact that she has that masochistic streak. She doesn’t have a crush on him.”

“I have nightmares where I see the two of them, fucking. Laughing at me.”

The sentence spilled out of Trunks, and he looked surprised at himself. That happened sometimes. Lots of people just wanted to talk. More than you would think.

Lacy sat next to Trunks, placing her legs over his. He trailed his fingers up and down them.

“She told me you made her feel small,” Lacy said, after a moment. Maybe she shouldn’t have said it. That had been a… more personal thing, that Shawn had shared with her. Not just, “I like it when Trunks talks dirty to me,” and “I was wetter than I have ever been before during my one and only sexual experience with another person,” those were… well, again, they seemed totally normal things to Lacy. Barely secrets. But this was, a bit of a secret. But still… it felt right.

“Small?” Trunks said, frowning.

“Like… feminine. Petite. She’s kind of… big, you know? She said you made her feel like you were someone who could really throw her around… She really,  _ really _ liked it. She said you made her feel… what was it? Delicate. She said she had never really felt delicate in her life, but for some reason you ramming your cock down her throat made her feel like that.”

Trunks let out a soft moan when she said that. OK, now we’re back in business, Lacy thought, starting to straddle Trunks again.

“She told me she has this extremely vivid desire for you to just spank her and spank her and throw her on the bed and take her after, like, math classes.” Lacy continued. Another secret, but what the hell.  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Lacy hissed in Trunks’s ear, feeling his breath on her ear, feeling him get harder again. “Throwing her around? What would you do to her? Tell me.”

“Sometimes when we’re talking,” Trunks murmured as Lacy started moving her hips on top of him, “I can  _ smell  _ her getting wet… I just want to  _ bury  _ my face into her… I want to hear her scream, feel her gasp when I start fingering her...”

“God, you should…” Lacy said, still slowly gyrating her hips. “Just ask her. Just fucking ask her if you can lick her little pussy. Straightforward. She’s a little, you know--”

“Nervous,” Trunks gasped. “I know. She’s nervous. It’s so  _ fucking _ hot and she has no fucking idea… A little blushing virgin… Fuck, how can she not  _ know _ ?”

“Yeah, think about how  _ tight _ she must be,” Lacy muttered, happy to feel Trunks start trembling beneath her. Well, mostly happy. She hoped he wouldn’t come – it was the  _ worst _ when men came during a dance, it was gross and unhygienic -- and started giving him a little less friction. This was kind of… mental stuff, emotional stuff, though and sometimes people would surprise you and come without warning.

“She gave me the best head I’ve  _ ever _ had,” Trunks moaned into Lacy’s neck. “If you tell her anything, tell her that. God, she made me feel so, so… like an  _ animal _ … It’s  _ never _ been like that before… Her eyes, looking at me, wanting to go faster, harder...”

The song ended. Good. Trunks was getting a bit too close to coming for comfort.

“That’s it, Trunks,” she murmured into Trunks’s ear. “I won’t tell her about the thing. The dreams. Promise.” She wouldn't, either. She didn't want her to feel more uncomfortable in that house than she already did...  


Trunks nodded at her numbly, and pulled out his wallet.

He was a very generous tipper.

\--

“We literally talked about  _ you _ the whole time, you ridiculous human being,” Lacy snapped at Shawn.

Their last show had gone badly. Not  _ terrible,  _ but not great. Shawn had been out of sorts as soon as Lacy had told her about the dance she had given Trunks.

Shawn was acting all affronted. That was… well, to be expected. But Lacy had a plan up her sleeve for that, too. Operation Rage. If Shawn was going to persist in being all… all  _ shy _ around Trunks? Fine. She, Lacy, one of the greatest flirts in the world, would throw them together at the perfect time: Trunks trembling and horny, and Shawn pissed off at someone other than him. Sparks would fly.

“I’m basically acting as your wingman, here,” Lacy hissed. “You’ve got to  _ get it together,  _ Shawn. He’s a  _ Briefs! _ ” 

“What do you mean?” Shawn asked, looking apprehensive.

“Oh  _ come on, _ ” Lacy hissed. “This doesn’t come around every day, you know. Start fucking him without a condom  _ immediately. _ Can you imagine what kind of  _ child support _ payments he would have to give you? Eighteen  _ years _ of that? Jesus, Shawn.”

“That’s  _ horrible,  _ Lacy.  _ Tricking  _ someone into pregnancy? That’s  _ reproductive abuse _ ,” Shawn snapped, flinging her swords in her case and locking it up. “Besides, I’m on the pill…”

Reproductive abuse, Lacy thought to herself, laughing slightly. Oh, Shawn… that’s right, get all mad, all self-righteous, all riled up, and then head home with Trunks. And Trunks all… turned on and thoughtful and you steaming mad and I’ll eat my shoe if you don’t do  _ something  _ sexual with him tonight. Rage could be quite the aphrodisiac. More significantly, it tended to completely overshadow feelings like nervousness, anxiety, and feelings of inadequacy. Rage made Shawn feel powerful.

“The pill? Why? It’s not like you get any…” Lacy started.

“For my acne. You  _ know  _ that,” Shawn snapped. “I’m not sticking around. I’m going to go get Trunks and leave now.” 

“Birth control for your acne?” Lacy said, dumping her torches into a duffel bag. “Don’t tell Trunks that. It’s not, you know, very sexy…”

“Stop being such an asshole,” Shawn barked, marching out of the locker room.

Hahahaha, thought Lacy. Man, they are  _ definitely _ going to fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goten corralling drunken teens at a Taco Bell is my aesthetic. 
> 
> Thank you so much to my beta reader, who is sympathetic when I initially write bad overly-quick chapter drafts because I want to get to steamier stuff.


	28. All nice and clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shawn and Trunks talk, and then do things to each other.

Shawn had insisted they walk home. She was rattled, she was angry… she didn’t want to be alone with _Trunks_ in an Uber that he had paid for. It didn’t feel right.

“Are you mad I got a dance with Lacy?” Trunks asked her, finally.

That bastard, Shawn thought, her chest tightening slightly. Why did he think he could just… just _ask_ her about those things?

“Because we talked about _you_ , you know…” Trunks continued.

Shawn stopped, turned on her heel, and stared at him. She hoped he would flounder… flinch or blush, but he just stared at her. Like he had been… been planning this.

“I’m mad because Lacy told me I should fuck you and intentionally get pregnant for the child support,” Shawn snapped.

That surprised Trunks, at least. Hah! She had unsettled him.

“Well, she certainly seems for us to want to fuck,” Trunks said, after a moment’s pause. “She told me I should just be straightforward.”

“Straightforward?” Shawn muttered, starting to walk again.

“Can I go down on you when we get home? Please?”

Shawn stopped, and she hated herself, but she was _blushing_ . She turned to look at him. His eyes were sparkling. He was _smirking_. Damn him.

“Um…” she said. “Do you… you want to?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Trunks murmured, a bigger smile spreading over his face. His hands were in his pockets.

Shawn blinked at him, and then looked at the ground and blinked at the ground. She looked up. There was a bench on the sidewalk near them.

“Can we… talk about it?” she said, walking over to the bench and sitting down.

“Here?” Trunks said, still smiling a little, “A dirty bench on the sidewalk?”

“Yes. I’m not talking to you about this in _your_ home. The power dynamics…”

“You’re a legal tenant of your room,” Trunks protested, but still sat next to her on the bench. “You should feel entitled to it…”

“I have been thinking it might be nice to fuck you,” Shawn said, crossing her arms and looking down at the sidewalk. If she was overly-upfront, maybe she wouldn’t feel quite so… vulnerable. “I think it might be easier with a friend than with someone I’m dating. I’m kind of inexperienced for my age – it makes dating kind of difficult. I worry.”

“How much have you done? You had a boyfriend once, right? He… died?”

“Cliff,” Shawn said, shifting in her seat. Should she tell him? Maybe. Probably. She exhaled slowly.

“That’s… well. Another thing. He was dating me… we made out a bit, that’s it. But later I found out it was all because he had made a dare to, you know.”

“Date you?”

“De-flower me,” Shawn said, trying to keep calm.

“Oh,” Trunks said, and he sounded... horrified. “That’s… that’s horrible. I’m so sorry…”

“Right,” Shawn said, rolling her eyes. She didn’t want his pity. “Very sad. But _you_ talk about how hot it is that I’m a virgin…”

“Oh,” Trunks said, sounding alarmed. “I… I’m sorry. I don’t have to, I can stop…”

“Well, I do think it’s hot when you do, so… I don’t know. It’s a bit… complicated. But… how do I know you will still want to… you know, fool around with me, after you’ve done it once? And,” Shawn said, aware she was blushing, and starting to talk faster than usual, “I know what I’m asking isn’t really possible.”

“What… what are you asking?” Trunks asked, sounding confused. “Will you… do you mind _looking_ at me, Shawn?”

Shawn glanced at him, quickly, before looking away.

“You know. We wouldn’t be… _dating._ We would just be… friends, fooling around. You could meet someone, you could decide you didn’t like fucking me… there are a million reasons why you might not want to fuck me after you’ve done it once…”

“Sure, but… well. That’s not the same as _deliberately_ sleeping with you, never intending to do it again, is it?” Trunks asked, sounding a little confused. “I mean… you could be _dating_ someone and they could leave you, whenever. Even if you were _married,_ your partner could still hypothetically leave…”

“And the other thing is, I’m not sure I really _want_ to have sex with you. I want to… you know. Start slow. I’m not sure when I’ll feel ready for sex-sex…”

“We can do that,” Trunks said, again, and Shawn could tell he was trying to sound non-threatening but still adamant that this was a possibility. Huh. He seemed to _really_ want to sleep with her, fool around with her… “If you want. I don’t mind. I didn’t even ask to sleep with you, I asked to lick you.”

Shawn blushed when he said that. Lick her. God, that sounded so… so good. He was so matter-of-fact. God, his face between her legs, maybe he would look up at her… God. He made her feel so feminine.

“It’s not fair,” Shawn burst out. “I feel so _comfortable_ with you, you know, most of the time… but… you’re so experienced, and sort of… you know. Good-looking. Good at… sex. And I’m just… you know. I’ll always feel like you have the upper hand. I won’t always feel comfortable with you…”

“I dated Mai for a long time,” Trunks said, suddenly. “Ever since I was fourteen, to a few months ago. I struggled to make her come, almost every time. Usually we needed to use a vibrator, or she would have to touch herself. Which wasn’t _bad,_ I don’t mind using toys, but… I don’t know. I always wished I could… And then, eventually, she wanted to try… you know, group sex. And we did. And once we were having a threesome with another man and…”

Shawn gave him a little look, frowning.

“He was able to get her off, eventually. And it was his first time with her! I felt really humiliated. It was awful.”

Shawn looked back at the ground, frowning. A threesome with another man. That seemed unusual for straight men, right? Maybe he was bi… she thought Goten was, anyway. Maybe a Saiyan thing. Still… in many ways, he _did_ seem like a good candidate for a kind of… sex teacher. Very modern. Open to threesomes with men. Not that she wanted a threesome, that wasn’t the point, but… He didn’t seem…. uptight.

“So… you want to practice on me too?” Shawn said, eventually. “Get better at making people come?”

Trunks barked out a little laugh.

“Sure, maybe,” he said, and Shawn looked at him. He gave her a little shrug. “I mean… I’m not trying to be a dick, really, but I think Mai had difficulty mainly because of… her anatomy. Her… clit, you know, was very small. Hard to find. It would kind of seem to… slip away, sometimes. That man we were with also had trouble finding it. She even did, sometimes. Toys were a godsend for her.”

“Oh, _God,_ of course she had a small, delicate, perfect little clit,” Shawn said, frowning and putting her face in her hands.

“Well… I mean, I’m pretty sure she wished it was bigger. More visible, whatever. Most of the clit is actually inside a woman, did you know?”

Shawn sighed at Trunks’s little… biology lesson. Goten had told her, on his and Trunks’s first time visiting the strip club, that he was… interested in learning about anatomy. He had told Goten about “reverse erections,” or something.

“Mine’s kind of… big, when I’m turned on,” Shawn muttered, pulling a handful of her hair. “I think it might look a little… unusual.”

“Oh,” Trunks said, and Shawn gave him a little look. He didn’t look… disgusted with her. He looked… well. Interested. 

“My labia are longer than usual too, I know,” Shawn continued. Might as well get it all out. He would… well, probably be disgusted with her, eventually. Better here on a park bench than in the bedroom, at least.

“Ah,” Trunks said, and Shawn stole another glance at him. He was frowning slightly. See, Shawn thought, feeling both sad and triumphant at the same time. He won’t want to sleep with me, after all.

“Do you think it’s because you’re part-Saiyan?” Trunks continued, still frowning, putting his hands behind his hands. “Larger genitals? We know Saiyan penises are bigger… I’ve never thought about it, but it would make sense, right? Bigger clits, bigger labia?”

“Oh…” Shawn said, frowning. “I… don’t know. Maybe…”

She stared at the ground with a fierce determination. She could feel Trunks’s eyes on her.

“Do you want to tell me… you know, what you look like down there?” Trunks said, eventually. “How big your clit is, how long they are? Are you… you know. Scared to show me?”

Shawn blinked, and held her forefinger about two inches away from her thumb.

“The labia, I guess. The clit is harder to measure, but it feels like it’s bigger than like… the ones you see in porn. Unless you look specifically for like big-clit stuff… ”

“That doesn’t sound all that unusual, honestly,” Trunks said after a moment. “Have you seen some of the big-clit porn? They almost look like little penises…”

“Yeah, I’ve seen those… It’s not quite _that_ big, I think, although I don’t like… whip out a ruler when I’m getting myself off…” Shawn said, shifting. “I think some of those people get surgery to make it bigger, right? Take steroids?”

“Dunno,” Trunks said; Shawn glanced at him and he shrugged. “Maybe.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds. Well, that hadn’t been too bad… He wasn’t disgusted by her… her body.

“I’d want… a safe word, I guess,” Shawn said eventually. “Because I kind of like… rough stuff. You know. Not sappy stuff. No kissing, or anything like that. Kissing seems like it should be for people you’re dating…”

“That makes sense,” Trunks said, after scratching his chin for a few seconds. “But I would have a few… requests of my own, I think.”

“Oh?” Shawn asked, frowning. What would they be… lose weight? Make sure to always pluck her eyebrows? Make sure she was very regular with the waxing?

“Can I say your name? And… maybe kissing on places besides the mouth? I think it would be hard to go down on you and feel like I couldn’t kiss you down there… it seems a kind of hard distinction between kissing and… whatever.”

“Oh,” Shawn said, blinking. “Sure. I guess. I meant mostly kissing on the mouth, anyway… I’ll tell you if you get too… romantic, or whatever. Only say my name if, you know. You’re really thinking of me. Just… don’t be sweet because you feel like you have to be, or something.”

“No,” Trunks said, nodding. “I know you don’t like that. But… acting sort of… violent and rough with you, it feels nice to be a little sweeter with you sometimes, too. You’re my… my friend, right? I don’t think I would like being only rough, if that makes sense. It’s… a bit new to me. Being so rough.”

Shawn felt herself starting to blush again. Oh. She hadn’t thought of that. But… it made sense.

“Oh,” she said. “OK. Yeah. That’s fine. I just… I just really don’t want you to lie to me.”

“I wouldn’t. Promise.”

“Well…” Shawn said, biting her lower lip. “I guess… yeah, you can go down on me when we get home. I’ll suck you off, too, if you like… I mean. If you still want to…”

“Mmmm,” Trunks said, grinning at her and looking at her with a little expression that made her heart skip a beat. “Can I… spank you a bit first? Lacy told me you thought of that, sometimes…”

“She did?” Shawn said, laughing slightly, her face getting redder now. God. This was… happening.

“Yeah… um. Yes. God, yes. Um. But a safe word. Um. I’ll just say ‘safe.’ You can say it, too, if I’m pressuring you to be too, like rough.”

“OK,” Trunks said, still smiling. So self-satisfied. “Anything else you don’t want?”

“Um. Well, no sex tonight, just um… oral. No… butt stuff. Besides, like… spanking. You know what I mean…”

“Can I finger your pussy?” Trunks asked her, and his voice was a bit raspier than before. “Will you take off all your clothes? Can I suck on your tits?”

Shawn, blushing furiously now, didn’t totally trust her ability to speak. She nodded. She felt very… wanted. It was… nice.

“Can we take a car the rest of the way home?” Trunks continued, pulling out his phone. “I don’t want to wait…”

Shawn gulped, and nodded.

Trunks opened the Uber app and glanced at her.

“Oh,” he said, staring at her apologetically. “I forgot…”

“What?” Shawn said, her stomach clenching. “If you say this is a joke, that you’ve been joking this whole time, I’ll _kill_ you, Trunks…”

“No, no,” Trunks said, ordering an Uber. “I still want to fool around. But, um. We might have to be kind of quiet…”

“Quiet? Oh!” Shawn said, slapping her hand to her forehead. “Bra’s sleepover!”

“Yeah,” Trunks said, “and they snuck out to a bar, got drunk, got into a fight, and ran into Goten. He took them to Taco Bell and is staying overnight in the couch in the den.”

“What?” Shawn asked, after mentally processing that. “Where were your parents throughout all of this?”

“Good question,” Trunks said, rolling his eyes.

“Do you want to… wait for another night?” Shawn asked, tentatively.

Trunks frowned at her.

“Do you?” he asked.

“Do you?” Shawn repeated. “Maybe you don’t want… people to know? Like, Goten?”

Trunks blinked at her and then leaned towards her and put his mouth close to her ear.

“I want to make you scream so loudly everyone in the block knows that you’re my little slut,” he murmured, causing Shawn to let out a little moan, “but they _are_ teenagers, so we should probably try to be quiet. Don’t worry, if you get too loud I’ll cover your mouth…”

\--

Shawn glanced at herself in the bathroom mirror. She had washed her feet, underarms, and brushed her teeth. What was that called? A whore’s shower? Well, that probably included her pussy, too, but that didn’t seem dirty… she wasn’t exactly freshly waxed though, which was a shame… she hoped Trunks wouldn’t mind.

She was wearing fishnets, shorts, and a top that was half between a bra and a crop-top. Her typical work outfit these days. The cardigan she had thrown over herself and buttoned up when they were walking home was in the corner of the bathroom. She thought for a moment, and then took off the fishnets and put the shorts back on. Tights were so clumsy to get off…

She felt pretty self-conscious, but she felt so… turned on by everything, she almost didn’t care. Almost.

She took a deep breath and walked into her bedroom, her heart hammering. This would… be ok, she told herself.

Trunks was lying on her bed, his sport coat off and the top two buttons of his shirt undone. He looked… slightly ruffled. Sexy. He had taken his shoes and socks off. Shawn had never seen his feet before… Well, she told herself, frowning. That wasn’t right. She must have, in the shower. Well. This was the first time she had _noticed_ his feet…

He had also turned off the overhead light and turned on her little desk light. It was… dim.

“Mood lighting?” she asked, nervously licking her lips.

“Yeah,” Trunks said, grinning at her and sitting up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Come here.”

Shawn approached him, unsure of what to do with her hands as she did so. They felt like dead limp fish at her sides. She wished she was better at this. She sat next to him, trying not to fidget.

“Are you ready?” Trunks asked, placing a hand on her cheek for a second, tapping at her with his thumb.

She didn’t really know what that was about; she blushed.

“Yes,” she whispered, wishing her voice didn’t tremble so much.

Trunks grabbed her waist and slid her over his lap, Shawn gasping.

“Hmmm… How should we do this?” Trunks murmured, his voice deep and soft, “Should your legs be on the bed, or on the floor…” He pushed her chest down so she was laying on the bed, perpendicularly over his lap. He gently knocked her legs off the side of the bed.

“I think that’s better,” he whispered. “What happens if you put your feet on the ground? Half-standing?”

She did so, straightening up her legs. She was a bit too tall, her hips didn’t connect with his lap.

“Hmm,” he said, looking her over. It was almost like he was surveying a piece of equipment in the work room, checking out its specs… Shawn gulped. He pressed down on her lower back, pushing her onto his lap, her legs bent slightly. She felt… winded, slightly, as his lap pressed into her chest.

“Straighten your legs if you get too tired,” Trunks murmured, one of his hands creeping over her ass, stroking her.

Shawn gulped.

“Oh…” Trunks said, after a moment, sounding a bit different than he had before. Shawn glanced at him. “You can tell me to stop, if what I say, you know, bothers you. It doesn’t have to be… like, you know. Too much physical pain.”

Shawn nodded, biting her lower lip.

“Good,” Trunks said, grinning slightly, and his voice slipping down to that slightly deeper register that made Shawn tremble, “So… you’ve been very, very naughty, Shawn…”

A little strangled moan escaped from Shawn’s mouth. Her heart was hammering. It was slightly hard to breath in this position.

Trunks spanked her.

\--

This position was good, Trunks thought, because it sort of angled Shawn’s hips slightly downward, causing her ass to look even perkier and rounder. A plus when you’re spanking someone.

The downside was it was a bit awkward, and Shawn’s groin wasn’t actually rubbed against his dick. She was a little farther down on his thighs.

Still hot though, Trunks thought, slapping her ass again and delighting in her little shuddering sigh. Maybe he would have her lay over her on the bed after she took off those little shorts…

“Do you know what Lacy and I talked about, while she was grinding on me in that little back room?”

Shawn gasping, shook her head. God, the way she inhaled after he spanked her… God.

“How fucking hot you are,” Trunks said, slapping her other ass cheek. “How much I fucking want you. How much that fucking _man_ who was touching your hair probably wanted you…”

Slap.

He could smell her getting wetter.

“Do you think that man knows? Knows you’re getting spanked in your little _outfit,_ making little sounds, getting nice and wet for me? Think he would be jealous? Think he would come in his pants, just thinking about it?”

Slap, and another little moan.

“I bet he knows what a little whore you are. Nice and waxed, Lacy told me.”

Slap, moan.

“God, I can _smell_ it on you when you’re turned on, I’ve been dying to lick you, to taste you, for _so_ long…”

Slap, moan.

He wanted to pull her up by her hair, but that maybe would be too much… Trunks grabbed her hair with one hand, looping his other arm around her chest. He pulled up on her hair, lifting her off of him, still slightly supporting her with his other arm. That was good, he thought. Not too much pain. He wouldn’t want to rip her hair out of her head…

She moaned and trembled slightly. God, she was _panting_. Fuck. God, she made him feel so strong. So… masculine.

“Take off your shorts,” Trunks commanded, tossing her off the bed, sliding back farther on the bed. “Keep your underwear on. Then lay on top of me. I’m not done punishing you…”

Shawn, still breathing heavily, slipped off her shorts. She was wearing a little black… fuck, was that a thong? Fuck, Trunks thought. Awesome.

“Should I take my top off, too?” Shawn whispered, stepping out of her shorts.

“Good idea,” Trunks said, watching as she pulled the top off ungracefully over her head. Her breasts popped out of the top, jiggling. Oh. They were pale, about the size of an apple, with large maroon nipples.

“Mmm,” he sighed, looking at them.

“You like?” Shawn asked, squeezing them with her hands. Oh man, did that look good. God. He wished he had a camera.

“Come here,” Trunks murmured. “I need to touch them…”

She wriggled her way onto the bed, sitting on her legs.

Trunks grabbed her breasts and squeezed, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples. She exhaled as he did so, he glanced at her, her eyes were bright.

“Lay across my lap,” he murmured, pushing her down on top of him.

She was wearing a thong. Black. God, her creamy asscheeks were… oh. Trunks blinked. There was her scar.

It was as big as maybe a deck of cards. Deep purple, with what looked like bubbles under the skin. He could still see the outline of the hole where her tail had been… He blinked, thinking about how much pain she had been through…

“Is everything… okay?” Shawn asked, sounding… nervous.

“I’m just looking at your scar,” Trunks murmured. “Can I touch it?”

“Oh… sure,” Shawn said, and she propped herself up on her arms and looked over her shoulder at him.

She looked… tentative.

He stroked it. It felt… rubbery, almost. Smoother than normal skin. He could feel the little hole and it felt nothing like his… More rubbery, no little wiry hairs sticking out of it…

“Do you have a tail-hole?” Shawn asked, still looking at him tentatively. “I didn’t notice it before, when we…”

“I do,” Trunks said, surprised. “We all do. Dad, Goku, Goten, Gohan, Bra… all of us.”

“Can I touch it later? Look at it?”

“When I’m done with you,” Trunks said, liking how Shawn squirmed when he ordered her around.

Especially now, when her groin was pushed up against his hard cock like this.

He squeezed her asscheeks and slapped one, and then the other. God, it sounded better, slapping bare skin than her shorts. He liked seeing how her flesh moved after she slapped her, how it jiggled slightly.

“Do you feel how hard my cock is?” Trunks whispered at her.

“Yes,” Shawn moaned, and started rocking her hips slightly, grinding herself over him. Oh.

“Are you nice and turned on?” Trunks whispered, trailing a finger down towards the front of her thong. He knew she was, he could smell it, but _God_ she was wet. It was soaking through her underwear… and oh. Her clit _was_ larger than he had felt before… It was hard to tell through the satin of her little thong, but maybe the size of one of those large multivitamins, half buried inside of her. God. He flicked it with his finger through her underwear and loved the little groan she gave him.

\--

Shawn felt a little awkward as she slipped her underwear off. After he had rubbed her clit with his hand, he had pushed her off of him, told her he didn’t want to wait anymore, and told her to take off her underwear.

Trunks was watching her, with that look he seemed to give her whenever he told her to do something and she did it.

“Sorry it’s a little… um,” Shawn said, the thong slightly tangled in her feet. “Hard to take off without standing up.”

“I don’t mind seeing you squirm,” Trunks said, his voice low.

Gulp. God, he was so… _good_ at this.

“Lay down,” Trunks said, grabbing a handful of her hair and tugging slightly. Shawn thought she might start drooling. Jesus. “On your back.”

She did so, trying not to be so… nervous.

“Look at your nice little body,” Trunks murmured, leaning over her, trailing his fingertips over her stomach and breasts. “Very nice.”

" _You’re_ nice,” Shawn gasped. That was stupid, she thought. She didn’t need to be so… admiring, did she? He _knew_ he was nice, probably…

“Mmm…” Trunks said, flashing her a smile. “Good. Thanks. I’m going to start licking you now, all right?” So matter-of-fact.

“Yes,” Shawn breathed, licking her lips and slightly separating her legs. God, she felt so… _wet._

“You’re so wet,” Trunks murmured, still sitting and looking at her face, his fingers stroking the outside of her. His fingers were shorter and stubbier than hers, Shawn noticed, but very smooth and warm… oh God.

“Look at how wet you are,” Trunks murmured again, raising his hand to her face. Oh. It was covered with a clear, sticky substance. “Lick it off me,” he murmured, giving her that little half-smirking, half-smiling look.

Shawn swallowed and then slowly began lapping at his fingers. She tasted… slightly bitter. Earthy.

“Good girl,” Trunks murmured, slipping his two first fingers into her mouth and forcing her to suck on them. “Very good.”

Shawn moaned over his fingers, felt her eyes roll backwards in her head. This was… almost too much.

She hoped he would keep calling her a good little girl.

“All right,” Trunks said, grabbing her ankles and pushing her legs into a slightly bent position.

Shawn trembled, staring at the ceiling. She was frightened, excited, and light-headed at the same time.

And then she felt the softest, warmest thing she had ever felt in her life on her clit.

“Ohhh,” she groaned, gasping. There couldn’t be anything softer in the world than Trunks’s tongue. Nothing.

“Hmm,” Trunks said, laughing slightly. “You like that, do you?”

“Don’t stop,” Shawn gasped, her hands sneaking up to her hair and tugging, hard.

“Ordering _me_ around now, are we?” Trunks teased her, his voice causing her heart to skip a beat but then – oh, then he was lapping at her again and she couldn’t stand it, it felt so good.

A tug. Oh, what was that, Shawn thought, groaning and realized he was _sucking_ on her clit, gently. Oh fuck. Fuck that was good.

Nothing in her life had ever felt this good before, oh…

She came; gasping, groaning, and extremely embarrassed that her legs were shaking uncontrollably.

“Oh,” she said, sweaty and gasping, when she was done convulsing. “Oh, _God_.”

“Mmm… you came fast,” Trunks murmured, and she glanced down to see his head leaning against the side of her thigh, his eyes looking at her wickedly. “I didn’t even get a chance to finger you…”

“Oh,” Shawn said, gasping, hoping he wouldn’t try to now. She felt… over-sensitive, overwhelmed. But good. Really good. God. She sat up slightly, moving slightly away from Trunks’s face.

“Was it okay?” Trunks asked her, and she there was something in his eyes that Shawn couldn’t quite place. Anxiety, she realized. …Oh. She hadn’t thought that _he_ would need…

“Amazing,” she gasped, nodding. “I feel so over-sensitive, I… really good. It was really, really good,” she said, aware she was babbling.

“Mmm,” Trunks said, grinning at her. “Think you have the energy to get me off?”

“Yeah,” Shawn said, sitting back on her legs again, aware of how wet she still was, how it felt like it was seeping out of her. She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “You’re still clothed,” she said, realizing. “I didn’t even notice!”

“Is that an insult?” Trunks laughed, sliding towards her and guiding her hands to the top button on his shirt. “You don’t enjoy looking at my body?”

“No, you were just… distracting me,” Shawn said, trying to undo his buttons as quickly as possible. It was awkward, they were on the opposite way as normal buttons… maybe men’s shirts were different, she thought.

Slipping the shirt off, she started pulling at his undershirt. God, his muscles were out of control… God, it was crazy that she was even _allowed_ to fool around with someone as good-looking at him. A cosmic mistake.

She unbuttoned the button of his jeans, feeling how hard he was, but hesitated at the zipper. Would she… how would she know she wouldn’t catch his cock in the zipper?

Trunks quickly unzipped himself, squirming out his jeans and boxers in one smooth, if slightly awkward movement.

Oh, there it was again, Shawn thought, sighing slightly as she saw it. Such a good cock, she thought. Large, warm…

Trunks grabbed her hand and moved it towards his back. Shawn didn’t know what was happening, until he pressed her hand on… oh.

“Oh!” Shawn said, starting. “It has hair on it!” A little hole, about the size of a silver half dollar, with prickly _hair_ on the inside of it.

“Mmm-hmm,” Trunks said, pulling her closer to him so she could look over his shoulder. “See?”

She looked. It was… odd looking, but not… bad.

“Does it feel good when I touch it?” she whispered, still gingerly running her finger over the hole. It wasn’t very deep, maybe a half-an-inch?

“A bit,” Trunks breathed in her ear, and she realized how close her chest was to his, how close their skin was to touching. She shivered. “It feels a bit like… I don’t know. A belly-button, or something.”

“Mmm,” Shawn said, running her hand up his back. God, those muscles.

“Can I fuck your face again?” Trunks asked her, his face still very close to hers.

“ _Please_ fuck my face, Trunks,” Shawn whispered in his ear. She liked it when he whispered in her ear, maybe he would…Yes, he shivered slightly when she did it. Wow. That was… huh. She could make him _shiver._ Hah-hah.

“Lay down,” Trunks murmured. “Let me straddle your face…”

She lied down, excited. She had seen this in porn, and while she probably wouldn’t be able to see Trunks’s hips moving back and forth quickly when he fucked her face, it would still be _happening_ …

Trunks placed his knees next to her shoulders, frowning slightly.

“I haven’t done this in a long time,” he muttered. “Not many girls like it… I think it will work better with a pillow behind your head…”

They scrambled around awkwardly, positioning Shawn’s head closer to his dick.

Oh, Shawn thought, biting her lower lip. His cock was _right_ in front of her mouth, and there was a little droplet of pre-cum on it. Fuck that was… that looked _amazing._. . She glanced up at his face, he was looking at her intently, breathing heavily. She licked the tip of his head, licking away the pre-cum, and he groaned and slid into her.

Oh, Shawn thought, blinking. She could see why a lot of people didn’t like this. It was… a bit uncomfortable. His cock was pressing against the top of her mouth a bit, there was a lot of pressure. She had to concentrate to keep her mouth opened wide enough, to keep her tongue down. Still, there was something very hot about it, especially knowing how fast his hips must be moving on top of her. She wished she could record it, play it back later. His ass must look amazing, pumping into her like this.

“Shawn,” Trunks moaned, and Shawn rejoiced in hearing him say her name. That meant he was thinking about her, right? “Oh, Shawn…”

“This feels _so_ good, Shawn, it almost feels like fucking…” Trunks gasped, whipping his hips in her face harder. “I’ve never fucked someone’s face before like this, you’re incredible, you’re a little fucking _goddess_ , that’s what you are…”

Shawn gave out a surprised little moan when she heard that. She didn’t feel like a goddess. Her jaw started to ache a bit. Huh. A goddess. A goddess with an aching jaw and trying very hard not to accidentally press her teeth against his shaft.

He shuddered and moaned, and Shawn could feel his cock jerking slightly as it pumped his cum into her mouth. Oh. There was a lot of it this time, more than last time, she thought, starting to gag on it slightly.

He pulled out of her mouth and awkwardly collapsed to the side of her, still gasping slightly.

Shawn spit out his cum in her hand, glancing at him as she did so.

“Ugh, so fucking hot,” Trunks said, groaning slightly, still gasping. “You… you little slut.”

Shawn smiled, wiping her mouth with the back of her other hand and blinking at the pile of cum in her palm. Um. What was she supposed to do with this now?

“Come on,” Trunks murmured, sliding off the bed and grabbing her non-cummy hand. “Let’s get you washed up, my dear…”

My dear, Shawn thought, slightly perplexed, as he led her in the bathroom and turned on the tap in the sink for her.

He… oh, he was washing her hands for her, protectively, almost. Grabbing her hands and rubbing soap all over them, making sure all the cum went down the drain.

“There,” he said, turning off the water and fussily patting both of her hands dry with a towel. So… paternalistic, almost. “Nice and clean.”

“Thanks,” Shawn said, trying not to blush. That had been… sweet. A little strange, but sweet.

“Was it okay for you?” Trunks asked her, pushing a stray piece of hair out of her eyes.

“Amazing,” Shawn said, nodding. “You?”

“Oh, you were great,” Trunks said, laughing slightly and kissing her on the forehead. “Very sexy.”

He smiled at her for a few seconds, still playing with a piece of her hair.

“Well,” she said finally, feeling a little overwhelmed and wanting to stare at her bedroom wall and sort out her emotions, “we should probably go to sleep…”

“Yeah,” Trunks agreed. “Should we sleep in your bed? It’s bigger… you have a queen and I have a double…”

“What?” Shawn asked, surprised. “Why would we share a bed?”

“Oh…” Trunks said, blinking, looking a little embarrassed. “I just… you don’t want to?”

“Not… really,” Shawn said, frowning. “Is that… is that okay? Do you want to?”

“Oh, no, no…” Trunks said, shaking his head furiously. “I’m cool. A lot of girls like to cuddle, after… you know. I thought maybe you would want to. We still could, you know, for a while…”

“I’m okay,” Shawn said, laughing. She didn’t feel like cuddling. She felt like listening to music and wondering if what had happened tonight had fundamentally changed her, made her less of a virgin. Plus, it was probably about four in the morning at this point… she wanted to go to sleep.

“Um,” Trunks said, blinking. “All right then. So we’ll just… go to sleep then.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Shawn said, starting to sway back and forth. “Maybe… maybe we can fool around again tomorrow, or in a few days. You can, you know. Finger me.”

“Yes,” Trunks said, nodding at her. “I would… like that.”

“OK,” Shawn said, walking towards her room. “Good night, then…”

“My, um. My clothes are still in your room, Shawn…” Trunks said, awkwardly following her.

“Oh,” Shawn said, blinking at him as he scurried to grab his clothes. Why did he look embarrassed? It wasn’t _bad_ that he left his clothes in there…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Trunks, needing more aftercare than Shawn but lacking the vocabulary and confidence to ask for it. 
> 
> I've been thinking that this story is kind of a more progressive 50 Shades of Grey - about two people learning to be in a D/s sexual relationship with one another. Trunks doesn't really know how to be quite so dominant, so it's a change for him too - and I think Shawn right now is still having trouble realizing that you know, this is new terrain for him as well.


	29. What is that, a drug?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trunks talks to Goten, and then Bra.
> 
> Shawn talks to Ellis and Lacy. Oh, and eats ketchup.

Trunks wandered into the living room and glared at the collection of teenagers gently snoring in their sleeping bags. Richard’s head was on top of Adelaide’s sleeping bag, approximately where her stomach would be. It looked like he was drooling slightly on it.

Well, at least they were all in one piece.

Sighing, he wandered over to the den, where Goten was splayed out on the couch like a starfish, snoring.

Trunks ran into the coffee table, swearing as his toe made contact with the piece of furniture.

“What? Oh…” Goten said, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. “Hi, Trunks… what time is it?”

“Nine in the morning. Sorry to wake you, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s all right,” Goten said, grinning and swinging his feet over the side of the couch. “Did you check on the kids?”

“They’re sleeping,” Trunks said, collapsing on the couch next to Goten. “Richard is kind of lying on Adelaide…”

“I think maybe they started dating last night,” Goten said, stifling a yawn. “They whispered to each other over the chalupas. Very romantic.”

“Hmm,” Trunks scowled, looking up at the ceiling. “How did Bra take that?”

“Fine, I think. I don’t think she really wanted to _date_ Adelaide or anything like that…”

“Hmm,” Trunks grunted again, picking at a spot on his chin. Was it a pimple? Gross. God, he felt so shitty.

“How was Shawn?” Goten asked, giving him a little nudge. “You smell like her.”

“Oh,” Trunks said, willing himself not to blush. It didn’t work. “We… fooled around, I guess….”

“You don’t look too happy about it,” Goten remarked.

“It was a little… strange,” Trunks said, still steadfastly staring at the ceiling.

Goten didn’t say anything, and Trunks got the impression that he was waiting for him to continue. Trunks didn’t really want to talk about it though, he felt embarrassed, feminine, weak. What kind of man sulks because… well, because there wasn’t enough post-coital _cuddling?_ God, what would his father say if he knew? He didn’t like it.

“Why were you so insistent that I go to see her, anyway?” Trunks muttered, trying to deflect his irritation off of himself and on to someone else.

“Oh,” Goten said, sighing. “I don’t know…”

Trunks waited for him to continue.

“Well… we’re good friends, right?” Goten started, fidgeting in his seat slightly.

Trunks stared at him.

“Yeah…?”

“I used to get kind of… jealous of girls you liked,” Goten said, looking at his feet. “I don’t know. I sort of felt like you were my… main companion in life. Not companion in a romantic way, or anything… just like. My friend. And you were always running around trying to… you know. Replace me.”

“I’m not trying to _replace_ you!”

“I know, I know. And I might find someone I like enough to date, who knows,” Goten shrugged, looking embarrassed. “I talked to some people at the… meetup. They said it happens sometimes to people who don’t, you know, date much. Get pretty attached to friends.”

Goten exhaled loudly, puffing out his cheeks.

“And, anyway, they encouraged me to try to… well, be more okay with you dating. This one woman there, she was really smart. She said I needed to accept that you are more interested in dating and sex and romance than me, and if I try to stop you doing those things, or like… manipulate you, it would hurt our friendship.”

Trunks stared at Goten, blinking. Things were starting to shift into place.

“Wait… is _that_ why you didn’t like Mai? You were… jealous?”

Goten shrugged at him.

“...Sorry,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. “I was kind of dick about it, sometimes… But I like Shawn. And, so I didn’t want to… prevent you from seeing her… It didn’t seem… right.”

“Hmm,” Trunks said, crossing his arms and trying to stop himself from picking that damn pimple on his chin. “I’m not sure it will ever come to that. Dating her.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. She… I don’t know. I think she just wants to fuck me,” Trunks said, running a hand through his hair. “I feel kind of… bad about it. Used, or something. It’s weird. I’ve had one-night stands before -- even with people I liked! -- and it didn’t really feel like this…”

“Huh,” Goten said, frowning at him. “Maybe you like her… more?”

Trunks shrugged moodily.

“The stuff she’s into, you know,” Trunks started, fidgeting, “the kind of painful stuff, you know, it takes a lot of energy.”

“Painful stuff?”

“Yeah, that like… I don’t know what you’d call it. BDSM, maybe. It wasn’t that intense, or anything like that, but I still have to be… _in charge_ of everything. Order her around. I like it, but it’s a little tiring. And then she just tells me to get out when it’s over… it just feels so _bad_ . Like… didn’t it _matter_ to her that I _tried_ really hard? I gave her a _lot_ of attention, she’s so… so... immature and insecure, and she only complimented me once! Once! The whole time! And I had to fish for it… And! And! I want to make sure she’s _okay_ that I didn’t hurt her, or push her too hard, and she just… I don’t know.”

Trunks stopped, aware he had started ranting.

“What do you mean she tells you to get out?” Goten said, frowning.

“She didn’t want to, you know, cuddle or sleep in the same bed or something. She said she felt ‘overwhelmed.’”

“Did you ask her to?”

“Yeah. Well. I asked her if she wanted to, and she said no…” Trunks said, scowling. “I told her most girls liked some kind of communication after fooling around and she just sort of _pranced_ around being like ‘well, I’m such a different and unique girl I don’t need to, la la la, I’m overwhelmed and I’m really tired and need to sleep.’ I felt so _stupid._ ”

“Uh-huh,” Goten said, and Trunks could tell he was smirking at him.

“What?” Trunks snapped.

“Nothing,” Goten laughed. “Sorry. You know how I told you I read smutty fanfiction?”

“You didn’t say it was _fanfiction_ ,” Trunks said tapping his foot on the ground irritably.

“Yeah, well. A lot of them are BDSM-y.”

“BDSM-y?” Trunks asked, still frowning.

There was a clunk from the other room. Rustling.

“Ugh, they’re up,” Trunks groaned, putting his head in his hands. He did not feel emotionally, mentally, or spiritually prepared to deal with Bra.

“Yeah. People like to write about characters beating each other up and fucking. Go figure. But you learn a lot. Google ‘aftercare’ and ‘dom drop,’” Goten said, patting him on the back. “And try talking to Shawn about it…”

“‘Dom drop’? What is that, a drug?”

Goten opened his mouth, about to answer, when a loud clatter and screaming sounded from the kitchen.

“JOHN!” Bra’s voice screamed out. “Did you DROP THE EGGS? What are we going to have for BREAKFAST?!”

“I’d better get going,” Goten laughed, patting him on the back again. “Google them. Aftercare, especially.”

\--

“Calm _down_ , Bra not all of the eggs broke,” John muttered, scooping up the carton of eggs and glancing around for a roll of paper towels.

“I was going to make omelettes, but now I won’t be able to,” Bra moaned, running into the kitchen.

“ _You_ were going to make omelettes?” Trunks’s voice rang out behind her.

Ugh, Bra thought. Here was Trunks, no doubt about to yell at them, and…. oh. Jesus Christ. He _smelled_ like Shawn…

“Morning, Trunks!” Bra said brightly, spinning around and giving Trunks a big grin. “Did you sleep well?”

“Don’t start, Bra,” Trunks sighed, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hmm?” Bra pressed. “Nothing kept you up? Nothing particularly… interesting?”

“Bra, _stop_ ,” Trunks snapped. “Do you want me to tell Mom and Dad about your little adventure last night?”

“Hmm, interesting proposition. You’ll just wander into their room and talk to them? You sure? If you do, Dad’ll know about _your_ little adventure last night--”

“What are you _talking_ about?” John asked suspiciously from the floor, mopping up some of the broken yolks.

“None of your business,” Bra muttered. “Trunks, what can we make for all of us with only--” Bra counted the eggs left in the carton, “four eggs?”

“French toast,” Trunks said immediately, sighing. “I think we have some bread somewhere…”

“That’s a good idea,” John said, looking up. Bra rolled her eyes. John was always very apt to agree with Trunks. Probably due to his hair, Bra thought. God, maybe _Shawn_ likes _Trunks’s_ hair. Disgusting.

“Do we need to chaperone Adelaide and Richard?” Trunks asked, nodding his head towards the living room.

Look at you, Bra thought irritably. Trying to act all… paternal. Bah. Disgusting. She wasn't a _child._

“I doubt it, Richard’s a wuss,” Bra muttered. John snorted and gave her a look. “He won’t try anything…”

“Did you guys force Goten to take you to Taco Bell? Oh, God, did he pay? I should have paid him back before he left…”

“I put it on my credit card,” Bra said, rolling her eyes. “I wouldn’t make Goten pay, don’t worry… I’m not _that_ inconsiderate…”

“Mom sees that statement,” Trunks protested. “She’ll notice.”

“That’s the funniest thing you’ve ever said,” Bra muttered rolling her eyes. “They didn’t even notice when we came in late last night. Mom was still in the workroom and Dad was sleeping.”

“Is that right?” Trunks asked mildly. “She was working that late?”

Bra shrugged. Who cared what their mother was doing? Honestly. Apparently, two _separate_ couples had confessed their undying love for each other last night: Richard and Adelaide, and Shawn and Trunks. It was disgusting, and she would be alone forever. Always destined to kiss her friends in bathrooms and on cruise ships. The friend always down for a quick make-out sesh, nothing more….

Bra had to admit to herself, being the girl always down for a makeout sesh didn’t sound that bad, but eventually she would like to have _someone._

“Do I have to call everyone’s parents?” Trunks continued, frowning at Bra. “Tell them?”

“Oh, _God,_ ” Bra moaned. “Don’t act like just because you fucked Shawn last night you’re a responsible _adult._ ”

John glanced up at them, surprised.

“What… what does that even mean?” Trunks sputtered, but he still looked irritated. That meant she won, right? Hahahah.

“Dad wants you to get together with Shawn, didn’t you know?” Bra said, loving the way she was getting under her brother’s skin. “He told me she was the ‘right kind’ of woman, unlike Ruti…”

“He did not say that,” Trunks said flatly.

“Fine, whatever, don’t believe me…” Bra said, sighing. People tended not to believe her. It was infuriating. “Are you two going steady? Have you told her your heart skips a beat when she sees you? Where is she now? I’m surprised she’s not traipsing through the compound, following you around and blushing furiously…”

“We’re _not dating_ ,” Trunks snapped through clenched teeth. “It just… happened, alright?”

“Hmmm. You must be devastated,” Bra said, solemnly. “It’s unlikely you’ll find someone else who can swallow swords and has hair as large as hers. You know what, I’ll make you some French toast to make you feel better.”

“Shut up,” Trunks muttered, now quite red, and he turned on his heel and left the kitchen.

After a few minutes, Bra heard the door to his room slam.

“Why are you so mean to him?” John asked her, rattling around in the cabinets, looking for a frying pan.

“I just wanted him to leave us alone,” Bra muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. “Irritating people is the best way to get them to leave you alone.”

“And you’re skilled at it,” John said, sighing as he turned on the burner and awkwardly placed the frying pan on it. “Do you… you know… _like_ Adelaide?”

“No,” Bra said honestly. “Her tits looked pretty good I thought, though…”

“Why did you kiss her in the bathroom, then?” John asked, glancing at her and frowning. “You _knew_ she liked Richard, and he was giving her so much attention…”

“Yeah, and he gave her even more attention after he found out about our little makeout session,” Bra said, rolling her eyes and leaping onto the kitchen island. “I was _helping_ them.”

“You’re a monster,” John said, rolling his eyes. “Adelaide _cried_ over it. She was overwhelmed from all the attention…”

“Whatever,” Bra said, looking at the ceiling. “She was bound to get some attention eventually, right?”

\--

Shawn could tell that Ellis and Lacy were looking at her with slightly disgusted looks on their faces.

She frowned, and glanced up at them.

“What?”

“Jesus, Shawn. Would you like some eggs with your ketchup?” Lacy said, nodding towards the rapidly expanding red pool of ketchup on her plate. They were at a diner eating eggs and pancakes. And ketchup.

“So I like ketchup,” Shawn grumbled, shrugging and giving the bottle another little jerk before finally putting it back on the greasy table. “I ate it a lot growing up… Didn’t you, Lacy, when you traveled with the Company?”

“Oh, because of all the fries and hotdogs,” Lacy sighed. “I tried not to eat that stuff. So fattening.”

“It was my main source of vitamins, ketchup,” Shawn said, taking a large bite of her eggs and shrugging. She was ravenously hungry.

“So, did you and Trunks fuck last night?” Lacy continued, picking at her granola and berries.

“You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to,” Ellis said quickly.

“Yes, you do,” Lacy said, rolling her eyes at her husband.

“We fooled around,” Shawn mumbled through a bite of fried egg. “God, I’m so _hungry_ today…”

“Was it good?” Lacy asked, looking excited.

Shawn nodded, taking a swig of coffee. It had been good. Really good. She felt very proud of herself.

“Yeah. It was amazing. He wanted to cuddle afterwards though, that was a little weird…”

“Why was that weird?” Lacy asked, frowning.

“I don’t know,” Shawn shrugged. “We’re not _dating_ . I don’t really want to deal with… having to deal with him being _sweet_ to me…”

The fact that your heart skips a beat whenever he’s kind to you, you mean, she thought to herself glumly.

“Hmm,” Lacy said. “What did he say, exactly?”

Shawn gave a quick rundown of how Trunks had finished in her, how she had spit it on her hand, and how he had eventually grabbed her and taken her into the bathroom and washed her hands for her.

“He was throat-fucking you?” Ellis asked, surprised. “That’s a little hardcore, Shawn.”

“Is it?” Shawn asked, frowning but nevertheless feeling very proud of herself. She was hardcore. Hah!

“Yeah, it’s like a BDSM thing for some couples…” Ellis continued.

“I guess we’re into that,” Shawn said, shrugging again. God, she was _so_ hungry... “I like pain and being bossed around and stuff. Trunks is really good at it, too… I think I might eat another plate of eggs -- can you try and wave down the waitress?”

“Yeah, Shawn told me she wanted Trunks to _spank_ her,” Lacy said, laughing slightly. “And Trunks seemed into it…”

“We did that,” Shawn said, feeling herself blush slightly. “It was great.”

“Did you talk about aftercare before you fooled around?” Ellis interjected suddenly. He was still frowning.

“What’s aftercare?” Shawn asked, frowning.

“Doms don’t need aftercare,” Lacy said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t think _that’s_ why he wanted to cuddle. I think he _likes_ her, that’s all…”

“Lacy, that’s _not true_ ,” Ellis said, sounding alarmed. “Shawn, don’t listen to her. Doms can need aftercare...”

“What’s aftercare?” Shawn repeated, starting to frown over her eggs. She had… well, she had agreed with Lacy. She had kind of thought Trunks’s requests for cuddling was because maybe he… _felt_ something for her. She had tried not to think that -- that was a dangerous thought which terrified her -- but she had still, somewhere in her psyche, thought it nevertheless.

Ellis explained aftercare, and Shawn felt her heart sink. A “cooling-off” period after a BDSM “scene” where people take care of each other, are kind to each other, return to a more stable state. That did sound like what Trunks had wanted. Oh. So… it was a BDSM thing, not a Trunks-wants-to-cuddle-you-because-he-thinks-you’re-really-great thing.

“Mmm,” Shawn said, when he was done, sighing. “I don’t really like all the… well, the BDSM-community stuff you read about online,” she grumbled, picking at her toast.

“Why not?” Ellis asked her.

Shawn shrugged. She knew he had been in that community -- still was, really. He met up with women who, like her, liked to be tossed around a bit. Lacy didn’t seem to mind.

“Did you read something creepy?” Ellis pressed, frowning. “Did someone freak you out? There are some weirdos in the community…”

“No, no,” Shawn said, trying to avoid his eyes. “The opposite, I guess. Everything I read about BDSM online is all about… I don’t know. Feelings. Talking about feelings.”

Lacy snorted.

“Shawn hates feelings,” she said, rolling her eyes. Shawn flicked a piece of very-ketchupy-hash browns at her.

“It’s important to talk about feelings if you’re doing stuff like this, Shawn,” Ellis sighed. “Really.”

“Yeah,” Shawn said, glumly. “I kind of… you know.”

“What?” Ellis asked.

“I have some feelings for Trunks, that’s all,” Shawn muttered very fast, running each word together. “I think most people would say I shouldn’t… fool around with him unless we’re dating.”

“It’s fine because Trunks likes you too,” Lacy said, rolling her eyes again. “You’ll end up dating, so who cares?”

“Lacy, you _can’t promise that,_ ” Ellis said, looking agitated. He sighed deeply and patted Shawn on the hand. “I think sometimes people develop feelings for people they play with. It happens. But you should, you know. Be aware of what you’re feeling. And don’t _assume_ anything,” he said, shooting Lacy a look. “And eventually, you might have to talk about it. It’ll be okay.”

“Do vanilla people have to talk about their _feelings_ so much?” Shawn muttered irritably to her toast. “I can’t help I like this stuff, I didn’t ask to be involved in a community that requires… _aftercare_ and _conversations_ and _emotions_ …”

“Trunks has different needs than you, Shawn,” Ellis said sternly, handing the waitress his credit card. “Just because he’s a man doesn’t mean he doesn’t have feelings. Just because he dominates you doesn’t mean he doesn’t have feelings.”

“ _I_ still think he likes you, Shawn,” Lacy said, leaning back and grinning. “I bet you’ll be dating him within a month. 100 zeni?”

“Fine,” Shawn grumbled, picking morosely at a spot on her forehead. That seemed like a pretty safe bet. He was… Trunks. So… ugh. So perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My amazing beta reader (dianaefox) told me she felt really bad for Trunks in this chapter, especially because of Bra! 
> 
> I tend to write Bra as bratty, but I hope she doesn't come across as really horrific here. Just... a little horrific. She's lonely too, and used to snipping at her bro. She also, in my mind, assumes (like Lacy) that Shawn and Trunks will eventually date and so is a little perplexed by Trunks is moping about now. Also she feels lonely. Poor Bra. Teens, man.
> 
> Don't worry, Trunks will get some attention. Too bad Shawn is pretty busy on Saturdays.
> 
> Ellis is a pure soul.


	30. I only slept with him the one time, you know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A contingent from the future comes to flip Future-Mai's breech baby in her belly.
> 
> Trunks and Shawn make some plans for tomorrow. 
> 
> Would you sleep with yourself if you had the opportunity?

Vegeta pounded on the Boy’s door, feeling foolish. Not that he would admit it. He shouldn’t feel foolish… it wasn’t strong. It was unbecoming.

“Come in,” the Boy’s voice carried through the door.

Vegeta opened the door and stomped into the room, slamming the door behind him.

Trunks was lying on his bed, looking at something on his laptop, those little earthling earbuds in his ears. He smelled a bit like… Shawn. Oh. Huh.

“Uh… hi,” Vegeta said, unsure if he should acknowledge Shawn’s scent wafting off of his son. It wasn’t too strong, but strong enough… Plus he smelled a little turned on now…. Ugh. Well, that happened sometimes, Vegeta knew. After you slept with someone for the first time you could become insatiable, hoping against hope that it would happen again.

It hadn’t been like that with him and Bulma, the first time. He had run away too quickly, frightened of his own emotions. Well, that and he had wanted to train.

But when they had started up again the second time, after Cell, that had been… a lot. He had thought, somehow, that after Earthlings had a child their sex drives went down. That had… ah… not been the case with Bulma. Four times in one day, on one memorable day...

“What’s up, Dad?” Trunks asked, glancing at him over the top of the laptop and pulling headphones out of his ear.

“Were the kids okay?” Vegeta asked, sighing and nodding towards the living room. “Your mother thought that they had gotten drunk last night…” He wasn’t sure how he thought about all that, really. He had certainly started getting intoxicated when he was The Girl’s age, but he certainly didn’t want _her_ having the same kind of adolescence that _he_ had...

“You two knew about that?” The Boy asked, sounding surprised. Bah. He always thought that he and the Woman were such terrible parents. “Bra said you were sleeping when they came back. And that Mom was still working…”

“Yes, well. A contingent from the Future has arrived,” Vegeta said, leaning against the wall. “Your mother’s been working very hard on that device to flip the baby in Mai’s belly around.”

“I didn’t hear them come in...” Trunks said, frowning.

“They’ve only been here about thirty minutes. Wearing headphones all the time isn’t good for you. What if someone attacked you? You would be taken by surprise…”

“Who came? Mai?”

“Future-Mai, Future-Trunks and… well. Bulma. Future-Bulma.”

“Bulma?” Trunks asked, shutting his laptop. “Really?”

“She apparently figured out a way to make the time machine larger so they could all come…”

“Oh,” The Boy said, looking at him. “Huh.”

“Anyway,” Vegeta said, trying not to show how uncomfortable he had felt when he had been face-to-face with the long-haired woman from the secondary future timeline, the one that had been created so that she and so many others didn’t have to die.

“Yeah,” Trunks said, nodding. “He was at the same bar as them and ran into them.”

“You... believe that?” Vegeta asked, feeling uncomfortable. He wished he didn’t have to do this, but the Woman had insisted. And for some reason, had insisted that _he_ talk to the Boy about it...

Trunks blinked at him, frowning.

“What do you mean?”

“He wasn’t… you know. Giving them drinks? Getting them drunk?”

“No,” Trunks said, shaking his head. “Of course not. He was at an event at the same bar. He called me as soon as he saw them… He took them to Taco Bell. Made sure they got home all right.”

“Good. I figured he wasn’t trying to corrupt them. He knows I would kill him if he was...” Vegeta mumbled. He felt relieved. He was ashamed at how relieved he felt. He didn’t want to think that Goten would have… well. Acted inappropriately around them.

“How’s Future-Mai?” The Boy asked, closing his laptop and standing up.

“Extremely pregnant,” Vegeta said, following his son out of the room and towards the workroom where the Woman and the future-people were. The Girl was sulking in her room, which is what she usually did when anyone from another timeline interrupted their lives.

Vegeta understood it. It was a strange feeling, meeting people from other timelines. It was always nice to see Future-Trunks, but… well.

Seeing Future-Bulma had been bizarre. She had looked like Bulma, but a little bit fatter and with longer hair. That hadn’t been all _that_ strange, he had been able to tell himself that maybe this Bulma, this strange Bulma from the future, was basically like The Woman’s identical twins. Some Earthlings had those. Twins.

But then _she_ had seen _him_ and she had stared at him, and licked her lips and said “Oh…” in that tone of voice and he had suddenly realized what it was like for _her_ to see _him._ Someone who had been dead for so long.

And they had kind of just looked at each other. And it had been extremely, extremely awkward. The Woman -- his Woman, the Real Woman -- had made a little joke about it, but she had looked _thoughtful_ again and he was extremely worried that she had been somehow upset or offended by that Look. But he hadn’t meant anything by it, really.

At least the Boy had slept with Shawn, it seemed like. Or done something close to sex, probaby.

You had to be a bit careful, with the scent thing, Vegeta knew. Some of Freeza’s men would wrestle naked, or nearly naked. Some cultural thing where they were from. But it had taken a while for Vegeta to realize they weren’t all fucking each other -- just odd naked wrestling.

So it appeared that any prolonged skin-to-skin contact could do it. Usually it meant sex, or prolonged pre-sexual interactions like kissing and heavy petting. But there probably were activities Earthlings engaged in which could result in that, right? He had mulled over that for a long time after Mai -- their Mai, present-Mai -- had started showing up to their house, still dating Trunks but smelling like other men. Visits to the doctor? No, doctors never took off _their_ clothes as far as Vegeta knew... Dancing with someone else? Maybe, possibly, but it would probably only work if both parties were wearing very little or no clothing. There were dances like that, maybe, but Mai didn’t dance. Sharing a bed and literally sleeping next to someone else? That would probably do it, but why on earth would Mai be sharing a bed with someone other than Trunks?

But Trunks had seemed to unbothered by it, and he must have smelled it. So what did _that_ mean? He knew? And didn’t mind? He couldn’t be _that_ weak, could he? No, even though he often let Mai sort of walk over him, Vegeta couldn’t imagine that his son would stay in a relationship after being repeatedly cheated on.

That left only a few possibilities, barring Mai taking up sweaty and half-clothed tango dancing or suddenly needing to share a bed with random men. That his son _liked_ knowing that Mai was with other men. Maybe he watched. Maybe he joined in. He had taken to the internet, and learned that there was a sizable subsection of men who enjoyed knowing that their partners were cavorting with other people, which seemed extremely strange to Vegeta.

And now Trunks smelled like Shawn. And probably the two of them weren’t just tango dancing. So that was good. Maybe they would get married and have a child in quick succession. That would be nice. A little descendant of his tottering around the place. God, hopefully Future-Mai wouldn’t derail the Boy into thinking he had to be with Mai again - bah.

Well, it seemed like The Woman -- the real Woman, his Bulma -- had finished her little machine to rotate the baby in Future-Mai’s stomach. That was good. Vegeta wondered if eventually she would bring the child back from the future… would that be nice? Maybe it would make the Boy feel nostalgic for Mai… all this time travel, Vegeta thought, sighing. It was confusing.

\--

“Maybe I should cut my hair short like yours,” Future-Bulma said, leaning against the countertop in Bulma’s bathroom.

“I don’t know, I like it long,” Bulma said, rummaging around her makeup bag for her lipstick. She had said that she would give it to Future-Bulma, who seemed frighteningly makeup-less. Maybe there just wasn’t as much makeup in the future… Bulma finally located the tube of lipstick, and handed it to Future-Bulma.

“Yeah?” Future-Bulma asked, and Bulma noticed that she was looking at Vegeta’s little shaving kit on the countertop. She looked… sad.

“You miss him, right?” Bulma asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Hmm?” Future-Bulma asked, blinking and shaking her head. “Vegeta?”

“Yeah,” Bulma said, reaching out and gently tucking a long strand of Future-Bulma’s hair behind her ear. She was pretty, Future-Bulma. Well, of course she was. She was _her._

“I miss him,” Future-Bulma said, nodding. “A lot. I only slept with him the one time, you know.”

“Hmm,” Bulma said, now starting to stroke Future-Bulma’s cheek with the back of her hand. Her face was very smooth - her cheeks just a bit plumper than her own.

Once Krillin had asked her if she would sleep with herself if it was possible. If you met a version of yourself, would you sleep with them? Krillin was always asking strange hypotheticals. At the time, Bulma had thought that Krillin had been morosely worrying if he was too unattractive for _himself_ even, but now Bulma wasn’t so sure. It was a bit strange, looking at yourself. Stranger than she would have thought.

There she was, that version of herself, fiddling with the tube of lipstick she had just handed her.

Would you sleep with yourself if you had the chance? Another version of yourself. A good-looking version of yourself. A good-looking version of yourself who was tragically only able to sleep with another version of your husband once before that version of your husband died.

Bulma traced Future-Bulma’s lips (still without lipstick) with her thumb. Pretty lips.

Future-Bulma moved her head slightly, knocking Bulma’s thumb off of her lips. Oh. Maybe she didn’t like this.

But then Future-Bulma gently _bit_ Bulma’s thumb, and after a second, started sucking on it gently. Oh. So maybe Future-Bulma did like this.

“You only slept with Vegeta the one time, huh?” Bulma murmured, surprised at how low her voice was getting. “Well. Maybe we can remedy that situation… He can handle the both of us at once, I think...”

\--

It was nice talking to Future-Trunks, Trunks thought to himself, sitting down on the couch next to him. He was like him -- he _was_ him, in a sense -- but a bit quieter, a bit more responsible, a bit more feminine and masculine than him at the same time. Mai was sleeping in Trunks’s bed - they had all had a long and chaotic day full of fetus-spinning, gift-giving, and eating.

“So,” Future-Trunks said, stretching slightly. “How’s Shawn? You with her?”

“Oh,” Trunks had said, awkwardly putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “You heard about that, huh?”

“Mai told me when she got back last time. About the fight she had with Mai-Of-Your-Timeline.”

“Hmmm,” Trunks said, “she’s… good.”

“That’s who you smell like right now, right?” Future-Trunks said, smirking at him slightly.

“Yeah,” Trunks said, feeling apprehensive. Would Future-Trunks chastise him for fooling around with someone besides Mai? Would Future-Trunks be committed to the idea that all the Trunkses from all the timelines should be with all the Mais?

“That’s cool,” Future-Trunks said, a slightly wider smile spreading across his face. “Mai kind of liked her. She told me she hoped the two of you would get things going...”

“Really?” Trunks asked, surprised. “I would have thought Future-Mai would have wanted me to get back together with my Mai… I mean… our Mai…”

“I don’t think so,” Future-Trunks said, shrugging slightly. “Mai seemed to think that was over, for the two of you. We’re different, you know, in different timelines. Krillin’s married to 18 in this one! Marron exists.”

“Yeah,” Trunks said, nodding. “It’s weird. I guess I kind of thought Mai was my… well, my soulmate or something. Like I had to be with her.”

“I don’t really believe in soul mates,” Future Trunks said. “Too many people die to make that idea make sense. What would happen if your soulmate died before you meet them?”

“That’s true,” Trunks agreed, thinking of all the death and destruction that Future-Trunks had seen. It didn’t seem fair. Future-Trunks had to deal with so much, and he himself just got to sort of skip through life with a full belly and an intact family home. Well. A bizarre family, to be sure, but still.

“We should be getting back soon,” Future-Trunks said, sighing. “We don’t want Mai giving birth here… she’s not due for a week, but you never know…”

“I think your mother is still in my parents’ bedroom…” Trunks said, jerking his head in the direction of his parents’ bedroom door and grimacing slightly. The three of them -- his mother, his father, and Future-Trunks’s mother -- had been in there a long time. It was very late at night -- or early morning. Whatever. It made sense, in a way. Future-Bulma probably missed Vegeta, and then to be confronted face-to-face with a version of your dead lover and a version of yourself…

Thinking about what his parents and Future-Bulma were doubtlessly doing to each other right now was weird not only because they were his _parents._ That was weird, sure. But it was weirder because he was here, talking to another version of himself, another version of himself that had a wife. Would Future-Trunks proposition _him_ for a inter-dimensional threesome with Future-Mai? What would that be like? Trunks had never slept with a pregnant woman before… would the belly get in the way? From behind, maybe. Doggie-style. Future-Mai moaning and Future-Trunks… what? Biting his neck? Trunks loved that. Did Future-Trunks? Did little sexual things like that cross multiverses? Nature or nurture? He should tell Shawn about it, really, the neck biting. Ask her to bite his neck. God, the idea of Shawn nipping his neck slightly as he moved inside her, rocking his hips gently, feeling her spasm around him as he took her virginity… God. _God._

“Hmm,” Future-Trunks grunted, startling Trunks out of his uncomfortable reverie. “I hope all of… well, _that_ doesn’t cause any problems, you know. For your parents.”

“It was probably my mother’s idea,” Trunks said, rolling his eyes. “I think they’ll deal. They’ve been through worse…”

“Where _is_ Shawn, anyway?” Future-Trunks asked, “she lives here, doesn’t she? It’s late… Almost three in the morning.”

“Oh,” Trunks said, blinking. It _was_ getting late. Or early. Whatever. It had been a long day. “She works late on Saturday nights. She will probably be home soon…”

But then, after Future-Mai and Future-Trunks had finally left in the time machine with a flushed and Vegeta-and-Bulma-scented Future-Bulma, Shawn still wasn’t home. And it was five in the morning.

He uncomfortably wondered if she was avoiding him.

Should he text her? Would that be… clingy?

Chewing his lower lip, his concern for (and desire to communicate with) Shawn won out.

<Hey! Are you coming home tonight? It’s late/early. Are you okay? [smiley face]> He pressed send before he could second guess himself. Maybe he shouldn’t use so many emojis when texting...

He tried not to stare at the phone to see if Shawn would respond. She might be asleep somewhere… but that made Trunks feel a little uneasy. Where would she be sleeping?

The phone buzzed in his hand.

<im staying w lacy n ellis tonite we had a meeting w a booker for our act after work… also took some promotional photos and now I’m too sleepy to go home>

Trunks blinked at the message, not sure how to respond.

<u didn’t wait up for me, did u???> Shawn texted again.

<No>, Trunks texted back hastily. He didn’t want her to think he was… being creepy, or something. <We had a long day here. Future Trunks and Future Mai and Future Bulma came. Mom flipped the fetus around finally [baby emoji, baby emoji] they just left.>

Another pause.

Three dots appeared on the screen of the phone. Shawn was typing.

The dots remained.

Still, they remained.

Shawn was typing something and erasing it, it looked like.

<cool! Im glad that worked out> Shawn finally texted him. <did u get to see present-day mai again?>

Oh, that was it, Trunks thought, smiling slightly. Was she _jealous_ ? God, that felt good. The idea of Mai and him made her _jealous_. Hah!

<No, no.> Trunks typed back, sitting a little straighter and prouder. <But I’m pretty sure my parents had a threesome with Future-Bulma. [Rolling eyes emoji] So there’s that.>

<ahhhhh!> Shawn texted back. <amazing/strange…>

Dots. Shawn was typing again.

<do u want to get winch tomorrow>

<*winch>

<*winch>

<***birch>

<god damn auto correct b r u n c h>

<brunch>

Trunks smiled at the phone.

<sure! [emoji of pancakes]>, he replied.

<cool. I’ll be home at 11> Shawn texted back.

<[smiley face]>, Trunks responded.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it's been so long with this chapter! 
> 
> To be honest, after the big fooling-around chapter I sort of fell into a funk because I'm a bit confused how and when I want to end this thing, if that makes sense. The pacing issue, again! 
> 
> Originally this was going to be a slow burn and culminate with a traditional declaration or love and sleeping together near the end of the fic, but as I wrote the thing it seemed less and less believable that two adults living together and liking each other would be THAT clueless. And these two are already kind of clueless.
> 
> Things I like: 
> 
> \- I try to keep Vegeta's sections heavy on the internal thoughts and light on the dialogue, to demonstrate how he doesn't speak much but has a lot of bottled up emotions, thoughts, etc. 
> 
> \- Trunks is such a dork, using emojis when texting. 
> 
> \- Ellis and Lacy were definitely coaching Shawn on how to ask Trunks to go to brunch with her over text.
> 
> \- I'll be writing more!
> 
> \- I'm adding this after a comment was left saying this: YES, don't worry my children you will get some steamy scenes with Bulma x Future Bulma x Vegeta, probably in flashback format. I know it would have made more sense in this chapter, but I felt to exhausted to write it. (I spend a lot of time thinking where everyone's extremities and hands go in sex scenes, and it's even more complicated with three people. I know that sounds weird, but just thinking about the physicality of how the bodies are positioned takes a lot of mental energy and I wanted to post something. But don't worry I'm not a tease -- hah!)


	31. Why are we so lucky?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta eats some cold spaghetti and mulls over the previous day's events. Bra interrupts his reverie and gets upset.

Vegeta felt amazing. Spent. Tired. Also a little confused. Maybe it wasn’t good that he felt amazing. Maybe he should feel a little embarrassed, or something. Hmm.

He rooted around in the fridge for something to eat. He felt very hungry. What were those leftovers? Spaghetti and meatballs. He put the container in the microwave and hit the “express cook” button a few times, the only button he knew how to use on the microwave. Sitting down with the tupperware on one of the tall chairs lining their little kitchen island, he stirred the spaghetti and thought about what had happened just a few hours ago.

Hmm.

It had been… different.

Emotional.

He thought about it, tried to recreate the whole event in his mind, as he ate his spaghetti - which was mysteriously ice cold in some places and boiling hot in others. Oh well.

“Bulma? And… Future-Bulma?” Vegeta had asked, opening the door to their bedroom and walking in. The two of them had been in the room for a long time, and Future-Mai was getting sleepy…

The bedroom was empty. They were in the bathroom, he could hear. Giggling. Talking about makeup, probably, he thought to himself.

“Bulma?” Vegeta called out again. “Future-Mai and Future-Trunks are getting sleepy…”

And then Bulma had walked out of the bathroom wearing something she hadn’t worn for _years._ Fishnet stockings, a little garter belt, and nothing else. She was neatly trimmed, like always. Her breasts sagged slightly -- he would never tell her that, though -- but they still looked amazing. Pointed downwards but still mouth-watering.  

“Uh,” he had said, feeling foolish. “Is… uh… is Future-Bulma in there with you?”

“She is,” Bulma had said, leaning against the doorframe. “Do you want to see what _she’s_ wearing?”

“Uh…” Vegeta had said, and now that felt stupid, he wished he had been able to say something a bit more coherent.

“Come here, dear,” Bulma said, yanking Future-Bulma from the bathroom and presenting her to Vegeta.

Oh. She was wearing Bulma’s pale peach slip that she had worn the other day. It was a bit tight on her -- she was a bit fatter than Bulma. Probably had less time to go to those Zumba and SoulCycle classes that the Woman was so fond of.

“Her breasts are higher than mine,” Bulma said, and she had started to squeeze Future-Bulma’s breasts. “Why do you think that is?”

“Uh… Only one baby, probably,” Vegeta had mumbled, before he could stop himself.

“Hmm,” the Woman and said, and she leaned in and kissed Future-Bulma’s neck, brushing away her long hair.

“What’s happening here?” Vegeta had asked, suddenly frustrated, his hands balled into little fists. “Are you two playing a prank on me?!”

“No, Vegeta,” the Woman had sighed, brushing her short hair out of her face. “We want you to fuck us. At the same time,” the Woman had said. “Future-Bulma hasn’t fucked a Vegeta in _years_ …”

And Future-Bulma had looked at him, tentatively but there was also something else in her eyes that he couldn’t quite place.

“Uh,” Vegeta had said, blinking. “But… but… she’s not _you_ . I only want _you,_ Bulma… I… you know. Love you, kind of.”

“Oh, come _on_ ,” the Woman had said, rolling her eyes. “It’ll be fun. Besides, she is kind of me, isn’t she?”

“That’s surprisingly sweet, Vegeta,” Future-Bulma said, sighing. “I wonder if my Vegeta ever cared for me,” Future-Bulma said, wandering over to the bed and sitting down on it. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, Bulma.”

“Oh…” Vegeta had said, looking at Future-Bulma’s sad face. “I’m… I think he cared for you. I mean. I sort of cared for Bulma from the beginning.”

He had felt his Woman’s eyes on his face as he said that, frowning slightly as she clambered onto the bed next to Future-Bulma.

“I won’t get jealous or upset, Vegeta, I want to do this...” the Woman had said, leaning in and giving Future-Bulma a deep kiss. “Doesn’t that look nice, Vegeta?”

“It… it... does,” Vegeta murmured, feeling slightly light-headed. And it was beautiful, it was insane. They looked so _similar_ …

He knew that some people had sex with more than one person at a time. He didn’t totally understand it, though. It seemed like it would be difficult. He liked to focus intently on the Woman when he was fucking her, he wasn’t quite sure how to do that when there was _another_ woman there, fluttering around him.

“Have you… had sex since….?” Vegeta asked Future-Bulma as the two Bulmas separated, his Bulma looking surprisingly bashful. Hmm.

“Me?” Future-Bulma said, blinking. “Since you, you mean?”

“Yeah,” Vegeta said, licking his lips.

“Of course,” she said laughing slightly as the Woman started kissing her neck. “It’s been over twenty years… you don’t mind, do you?”

That was a weird thought. That he would mind. As if he had a right to mind... 

“No, no,” Vegeta said, shaking his head.

“No one as _strong_ as you, though,” Future-Bulma said, a teasing edge to her voice.

“Well, of course not,” Vegeta agreed. “No Earthling is a strong as _me._ ”

“Vegeta, do you want to come here?” the Woman asked, gesturing him to come forward.

He had still hesitated.

“I… I’ve never done this before,” he muttered, blushing, feeling ashamed. Weak. “With… two. I’m not sure… how it works.”

“I haven’t either,” the Woman. “But we’ll figure it out… We’re smart people...”

“I once watched a threesome happen,” Future-Bulma said, laughing slightly. “But I didn’t participate.”

“You _watched_?” the Woman asked, laughing slightly. “Who were they?”

“Oh, some people in the Resistance group. We had a little party one night. Things happened,” Future-Bulma said, shrugging.

Future-Bulma tipped her head at Vegeta, studying him. Vegeta had blushed, and then had felt stupid for blushing. And stupid for just… just _standing_ there.

“Vegeta the same in bed as he was that first time, Bulma?” Future-Bulma asked, teasing again. “Strong and fast and hard?”

“Well. Gentle sometimes,” the Woman said. “More kissing than the first time.”

In reality, there had been absolutely no kissing the first time between Vegeta and Bulma. Or the second. Or third. It had taken a while before kissing had entered their repertoire and when it had Vegeta had been temporarily obsessed with learning all the different ways it was possible to kiss the Woman: soft, hard, with tongue, biting, eyes open, eyes closed… There were so many ways to kiss someone, it was amazing...

“You never order him around, Bulma?”

Vegeta stared at Future-Bulma. Order _him_ around?

“Well,” the Woman said, smirking at him, “I guess. A little to the left, faster, harder, that sort of thing…”

“Hmm…” Future-Bulma said, shaking her long hair out of her eyes. My God, Vegeta thought, that looked _so_ similar to the way his Woman would shake her hair out of her eyes. God. God he wanted both of them. “I order men around sometimes,” Future-Bulma said, slowly lifting the peach negligee off of her. Oh. She was… wow.

“Although,” Future-Bulma continued, as Vegeta stared at her very slight belly and rounded breasts, her curvy hips, “not with anyone as _strong_ or as _proud_ as you, Vegeta…”

Vegeta wondered if he should start encouraging the Woman to skip her SoulCycle classes once in a while. Give her rich, fattening food. Put whipped cream all over his cock and make her lick it off. Then, immediately ashamed of those thoughts -- those lingering thoughts about how he very slightly preferred Future-Bulma’s figure than his Woman’s -- he pushed them down. They were not good thoughts. Inappropriate. His Woman was perfect. Perfect.

Still, the whipped cream idea was something they could return to…

“Well, in the threesome I watched the man started off just watching the two ladies warm each other up…” Future-Bulma said, sitting back down on the bed next to the Woman. “And you, Bulma, certainly seem to like kissing me, so--”

His Woman kissed her again, biting her lower lip.

A knot twisted up inside Vegeta’s stomach. It was hot, sure, but it was… well. His Woman. _His._ He didn’t want… well, he didn’t want another woman who looked just like his woman kissing His woman! Wait, that was confusing. What?

“I don’t like just watching,” Vegeta said, scowling and crossing his arms. “It feels strange just _watching_ you two. I want some pleasure, too, you know.”

“Hah!” Future-Bulma said, scooting back on the bed. “You haven’t changed too much, have you…”

“Are you going to make this _difficult_ , Vegeta?” His Woman asked him, joking, but she scratched her eyebrow as she said it, making Vegeta’s heart contract. The eyebrow scratching had been instituted somewhat late in their relationship, after Vegeta had ruined yet _another_ Capsule Corp reception by storming off irritably. Fine, Bulma had finally told him, after he had tried to explain why those stuffy events made him feel winded and out-of-breath, we’ll institute a code. I’ll scratch my eyebrow to see if you are okay. You can leave, too, if you need to. You’ve fulfilled your spousal obligation to stay at the reception, no one will think it’s weird if you leave now.

And now she was doing it here. Checking in on him. She… well, she cared for him.

As if he deserved it.

He should be okay with this, he had thought at the time. Wasn’t this… wasn’t this what men were supposed to want? Threesomes?

“Difficult?” Vegeta had murmured after a moment’s hesitation, moving forward towards the bed and pulling off his armour. “Listen, Woman -- _Women_ , I guess -- I just want some attention, and I think, you two can give it to me, all right?”

“Oh, and here I thought _I_ was going to order _you_ around,” Future-Bulma had said breathlessly, and he had noticed how she had started to blush. Oh, that felt good.

“You can try,” Vegeta said, smirking at her.

“Yeah?” Future-Bulma said. “Well...okay. Is that okay with you, Bulma?”

“Be my guest,” the Woman had said, grinning slightly. “I mostly want to see your face when my husband makes you come. I wonder if it will look the same as when I come...”

That was his Woman all over, vulgar and kind at the same time.

And Future-Bulma had pushed him down on the bed (well, to be fair, he had let her push him down) and had told him that she and Bulma were going to lick his cock.

And to think it wasn’t too long ago that he and the Woman had done this for the first time! He had propped himself up on his elbows, looking at the two of them bent over him on the bed. It had looked amazing, incredible, both of their heads so close together, their hair mixing together, and feeling both of their soft little pink tongues trailing up and down his cock…

“What do you think, Bulma?” Future-Bulma eventually asked, as his Bulma was gently sucking the tip of his cock, “What next?”

“He likes his nipples pinched,” his Woman whispered, glancing up at him as she did so. He felt himself blush.

“Really? I think I’ll do that. Why don’t you start riding him, you’re already pretty wet--”

“What?” Vegeta had said, sitting up slightly. “Are you two touching each other?”

“Didn’t you notice?” The Woman asked, wrinkling her nose at him. “We weren’t exactly hiding it, Vegeta…”

“I was… busy looking at your tongues,” Vegeta said as Future-Bulma kissed him up his chest, stopping to lap at his nipples. When she bit them, he moaned. He heard his Woman get the lube from the little side table, and before he knew it, she was pumping a lubed-up hand over him as Future-Bulma pinched one nipple and bit the other.

He had groaned, rocking back and forth, and his wife slid on top of him. Heaven.

“Good job, Bulma,” Future-Bulma said, stopping and looking down at her. “God, she looks beautiful, doesn’t she, Vegeta?”

“Mmmm,” Vegeta moaned in agreement.

“I’m thinking now I’ll sit on your face,” Future-Bulma said. “And then you can fuck me in a bit. Don’t you _dare_ come inside Bulma, she gets you all the time…”

Vegeta hadn’t been sure what she had meant, sitting on his face. He had Bulma had never done that… Was that code for something? Something they did in the future?

But she did, essentially, sit on his face.

And he let out a strangled groan, and lapped at her.

Vegeta wasn’t sure how long they stayed in that position, it felt too good, and he felt so… well. _Wanted._ Future-Bulma and his Bulma both moaned occasionally, sometimes they said things to each other that he couldn’t make out…

Bulma wasn’t always the best at riding him -- her knees got a little weaker with every passing year -- so he started thrusting from below her when she inevitably started to slow down. He grinned into Future-Bulma when he heard her yelp in surprise and admiration as he did so. He could multitask. Hah.

She tasted slightly different than his Woman. Slightly sourer. She smelled slightly different too. But her parts were the same, her lips, her clit, he knew where everything was…

Eventually, he lifted Future-Bulma off his face and sat up, lifting the Woman off of his throbbing cock.

“I want to fuck you,” he murmured, nodding at Future-Bulma. “I can’t last much longer…”

“Do you want to take me from behind?” Future-Bulma asked, biting her lower lip. And while a part of Vegeta wanted to - God, her ass was incredible - a larger part of him didn’t.

“I want to see your face,” he murmured, pulling her closer to him.

“Yours too, Bulma,” he said to the Woman. “Would you sit behind her? Straddle her? I want to see both of you…”

“This is very Handmaid’s Tale, isn’t it?” The Woman said, slipping behind Future-Bulma.

“I don’t know what that means,” Vegeta had said, frowning at her. “Is that bad?”

“I don’t know what it means either,” Future-Bulma said, her voice breathless. And her eyes… she looked so… sad. Tentative. She didn’t act like it, though. She was vulgar and assertive, just like his Woman.

“Oh, never mind,” the Woman said, kissing Future-Bulma on the neck. “It’s a show. I’ll tell you about it later, Vegeta.”

And Vegeta had began fucking Future-Bulma, and she was tighter than his Woman, and he could feel himself stretching her slightly, which was hot but also something he didn’t want to think about too much, because _his_ Bulma was his and perfect and had nothing wrong with her. But oh, at the same time Future-Bulma felt amazing. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears.

Best of all, he had been able to look at Future-Bulma’s face, and his Woman’s face, and then Future-Bulma had whispered hoarsely how much she had _missed_ him, that Vegeta started to get a little… emotional.

Looking back on it, it was almost embarrassing.

But it hadn’t felt that way in the moment.

“Oh, _God,_ Bulma,” he had moaned as soon as she had said that. “Future-Bulma. My Bulma. Both of you. You have _no_ idea how much I wanted you back then, when I was training and waiting for the Androids… God.”

“I wish I had gotten a better chance to get to know you,” Future-Bulma had said, and she had started crying. “Don’t stop,” she said, wiping away the tears. “Please don’t stop.”

So Vegeta hadn’t stopped. And he started talking.

“I bet… Vegeta… I… felt so _stupid_ dying before telling you how much I needed you,” Vegeta gasped. “How much I… care for you… I bet I never even got to _kiss_ you, did I, what an idiot I was...”

“You didn’t care yet...” Future-Bulma said, another little sob escaped from her mouth. “There wasn’t enough time.”

“No, no, I cared from the beginning,” Vegeta murmured, thrusting into Future-Bulma harder now, and looked up at his Woman, who was looking at him intently. “It scared me, how much I cared. I tried to… push it down. I’m not lying. I’m not.”

“I believe you,” his Woman whispered, and Future-Bulma sniffed a loud sniff (he had never slept with someone who was crying before, and wasn’t sure of the etiquette. Was he supposed to hand her a tissue?) and Vegeta, swallowing hard, started doing that thing with his thumb that he _knew_ Bulma liked.

And Future-Bulma liked it too, it seemed. After a few minutes of moans and yelps she rocked in the bed, shuddering, gasped, and came. He was close too, he knew. He felt very emotional. God, he was so lucky. Vegeta stared at his Woman, his Bulma, and her deep blue eyes as he came.

“Are you okay?” he had asked her after he had exited her, looking around blankly for that box of tissues to help wipe off Future-Bulma’s tears and his cum from inside of her. His Woman, always prepared, already had the box by her side and was already helping Future-Bulma with her tears, handing Vegeta a tissue to clean himself off.

“I’m good. Great,” Future-Bulma had said, shakily. “That was… really good. Really good.”

“I’m glad,” Vegeta had said, feeling… he didn’t know. He felt over-emotional. Confused. What if what they had just done had made Future-Bulma’s life _worse_ ? Maybe she would miss him more? Maybe it would stop her from… finding another man, or something. I mean, how easy would it be to find someone as good as _him_?

And then Bulma and Future-Bulma returned to the bathroom to clean up, and eventually Future-Bulma had left with a knowing-looking Future-Trunks and Future-Mai.

And then, when Bulma had returned to their bedroom, Vegeta had sobbed into her neck. Startled, she had murmured in his ear if everything was all right, and Vegeta had choked out something that had been bothering him for years but he hadn’t known how to verbalize.

“Why do _we_ get to live in the best timeline?” he had choked out, as his Woman, his lovely, perfect wife began touching his hair. He was so lucky. “Why are _we_ so lucky?”

“Oh, Vegeta,” the Woman had whispered to him, and rocked him back and forth gently. Like his mother had done, way back when.

“You’re such a good mother to our children,” he had finally whispered to her when he was done sobbing. He knew she was confused by that, but he didn’t want to tell her how much she had reminded him of his own mother with the rocking and the gentle hair-touches. It felt too weird.

And then she had fallen asleep as the sun rose in the sky -- it had been _very_ late (or early?) -- but he couldn’t sleep. And now he was sitting here, eating spaghetti.

Why were they so lucky, he wondered to himself, as Bra wandered into the kitchen, sleepily rubbing her eyes. His heart expanded as he saw her, his perfect daughter he made with his perfect wife.

“Hello, my daughter,” he said, smiling at her. “You’re up early.” It was about, what, eight? On a Sunday? Pretty early.

Bra opened her mouth to say something to him, but as she walked more fully into the kitchen, Vegeta saw her face go through a variety of emotions. Shock, confusion, anger, disgust.

Oh _shit,_ he thought, looking at her little angry and disgusted-looking face.

She had _met_ Future-Bulma the day before, hadn’t she? Yes, that dinner. And he _knew_ that Future-Bulma had a slightly different scent than his Woman… Shit. He should have anticipated this.

“You’re _disgusting,_ ” Bra snapped at him, her little face turning red. “What’s _wrong_ with you?”

“It… it wasn’t like that,” Vegeta sputtered. God, what did she think? Cheating, probably. Oh, what a mess.

“I hate you,” Bra spat at him, turned on her heel, and stalked out of the kitchen. He winced as he heard the door to her room slam.

  
Hmmm. Maybe this _isn’t_ the best timeline, Vegeta thought, looking at his bowl of half-eaten spaghetti. Damn it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for my lovely beta reader, Dianaefox!


	32. Tactical Action Figures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bra is furious and wants to psychologically wound everyone in sight. Bulma is concerned and wants her family to get along. Vegeta just wants to eat some string cheese and leave everything alone. Trunks wants to go on a date with someone who doesn't smell like they just had a threesome last night. No one gets what they want.

Trunks stared at himself intently in the mirror in his bathroom. He looked all right, he thought. The two little tendrils of hair that always framed his face were straight, his skin looked pretty good… He did have some dark undereye circles, but they weren’t _too_ noticeable, he thought. Besides, there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Probably. Right? He couldn’t wear concealer right? Could he? Should he?

No. Shawn might look like kind of a mess, it seemed like she probably hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep. And she… well. Didn’t always wear makeup. He didn’t really understand why, to be honest. If it was socially acceptable for straight men to wear makeup, he was pretty sure he would wear some. Concealer, at least. Maybe some mascara, it could make your eyes look nicer, he had noticed, on girls… plus his eyelashes were so pale…

He shook his head and rubbed his forehead. Get it together, Trunks, he told himself internally. It’s just brunch. It might not even be a date.

It felt like it should be date, though. She seemed to be flustered as she was texting him, right? That’s why she couldn’t spell brunch properly? Well… he hadn’t texted her _too_ much before, but whenever he had she did seem to have pretty abominable spelling. Still, though.

Shawn was _very_ confusing. Sometimes she… well, sometimes it seemed so _obvious_ that she liked him. She would smile at him, and get flustered around him… But then she would be so _horrified_ at the idea of cuddling, tell him in no uncertain terms they were just friends, and be relatively cold towards him for days on end. Plus she had an active dating profile on OKAngel, which had hurt a lot when he had found it.

The other, more practical thing that was confusing him was whether or not he was supposed to choose the restaurant they were going to go to. Probably not, right? She had asked him. But he did know of some really good brunch places, but they got pretty busy on Sundays… and he didn’t want to make a reservation in case she _had_ chosen a place.

There was lots to fret about.

Well, at least he liked how he looked in this shirt. It was a pale blue color, and sort of made his eyes pop. And the jeans were good, too. It would be fine. Fine.

Trunks wandered out of his bathroom, through his room and into the kitchen.

Bra was there, sitting at the kitchen island, and scowling.

“Hi, Bra,” Trunks said, yawning. “There coffee?”  

“I dunno,” Bra said, scowling a little harder.

“Hmm,” Trunks said, examining the sadly empty coffeemaker and pouring some coffee into the coffee grinder. Probably it didn’t make sense to make coffee -- it was almost eleven, and Shawn should be coming home any minute. Plus, he didn’t really want to have coffee breath when Shawn did come home… Oh well. Mouthwash existed for a reason, and he felt very tired.

“Morning, Trunks,” his mother said, wandering into the kitchen. Trunks looked up, and blinked. Vegeta was trailing behind his mother, looking sheepish. Trunks could count the number of times that his father had looked sheepish on one hand. One hand missing several fingers.

“Morning, Mom. Morning, Dad…” Trunks said, turning back to fiddle with the coffeemaker.

“How can you just _say hello_ to them like _nothing is wrong_ _?!”_ Bra exclaimed, pounding her hands on the kitchen island.

Trunks looked over at her.

“Uh…” he said, blinking. “Is… something wrong?”

“Doesn’t your _nose_ work?” Bra snapped.

Oh, Trunks thought, sighing. Yes, both of his parents smelled a bit like Future-Bulma. He had been… well, expecting he, or something. It hadn’t really registered. He didn’t really care. There was brunch with Shawn to think about, more important things to worry about...

“It’s fine, Bra…” he said, sighing.

“Bra,” his mother said, crossing her arms over her chest, “did you yell at your father this morning?”

“You’re mad at _me_ _?!_ For _yelling_ _?_ You _cannot_ be serious right now!” Bra snapped.

“Oh, I’m serious,” Bulma responded levelly.

“He _slept_ with Future-Bulma, Mom!” Bra snapped. “I can _smell_ it all over him. It’s all over you two, Mom, what the hell, did Dad fuck you right after--”

“ _Language,_ Bra,” Bulma snapped as Trunks awkwardly stared at the gurgling coffee-maker. “And for heaven’s sake, Bra, don’t be ridiculous. You can’t smell _who_ people have slept with, just when -- right, Vegeta?”

“Uh,” Vegeta said, looking confused and, when Trunks glanced over at his parents, giving Trunks a wild-eyed look for help. He’s looking at _me_ for support, Trunks thought bemusedly. I don’t know what to do either, buddy.

“Don’t look at me,” Trunks said, shrugging and reaching for a mug. “I didn’t even knew Mom _knew_ about the scent stuff.”

“Can you really?” Bulma asked, blinking. “Really?”

“ _Yes,_ Mom,” Bra said. “ _Now_ will you pay attention? Dad _slept_ with Future-Bulma!”

“I _know,_ Bra, I… well, I was there,” Bulma said, sighing.

Bra looked at her mother in confusion, and then looked at Trunks, who was wondering if he dared move to the fridge and grab the creamer. Nope, he thought when he saw Bra’s shocked-looking little face. Better stay here and drink it black. Or make a run for it. Either-or.

“ _What_ ?” Bra snapped. “ _Why?!”_

“Bra…” Bulma sighed. “I just… we thought it would be… nice. Future-Bulma doesn’t… you know, have a Vegeta in her timeline…”

“So you decided to have a _threesome_ with her?” Bra asked, now blushing deeply. “So… what, are you a bisexual now, or something?”

Trunks frowned into his coffee mug. That’s what was bothering her? Mom’s… sexuality? Huh.

“I… it’s a little different than that,” Bulma said, sighing. “She’s, you know. Me, kind of.”

“I see,” Bra said, rolling her eyes. Trunks could see that her face was becoming redder. “It’s just because you’re so _narcissistic_ that you would thought it would be a _great_ idea to fuck yourself, right? Is _that_ what this all is?”

“Bra! Don’t talk to your mother like that!” Vegeta snapped.

“Have _you_ been able to do this all this time, Trunks?” Bulma asked, sighing and turning to him. “Being able to tell _who_ someone had slept with recently?”

“Uh,” Trunks said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Yeah. I mean, I have to know who the person is, or else it just smells like… I don’t know. A stranger, I guess…”

“Vegeta, you _really_ should have told me about this sooner,” Bulma said, heavily sitting down in one of the chairs across from Bra.

“Wait, suddenly this is _my_ fault?!” Vegeta snapped. “I didn’t do anything wrong! The whole… whole… _sex_ thing was _your_ idea, Bulma!”

“God, you two are so disgusting!” Bra snapped, putting her head on her folded arms on the kitchen island in front of her. “Why did I get stuck with… _perverts_ … for parents...”

“Do we need to see the therapist again?” Bulma asked, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples. “I’ve been thinking Shawn maybe should go see her, too… Or maybe that would be inappropriate. I don’t know…”

“Shawn?” Trunks asked, perking up and frowning. “Why would _she_ need to need to see a therapist?”

“That’s the funniest fucking thing you’ve said all day. She’s deranged, Trunks,” Bra mumbled through her crossed arms.

“No, she’s not!” Trunks said, feeling a blush creep over his face.

“Language, Bra…” Bulma muttered, now looking at the ceiling.

“She is. I know you like her and everything, but get her talking about her mother. That’s where it starts to get weird. You’ll see.”

“Her _mother_ _?”_ Trunks asked, frowning slightly. “She hasn’t told me much about her mother…”

“She was kind of tipsy one evening when she was trying to teach me gymnastics and told me all about her.”

“I saw the therapist recently,” Bulma said, speaking over her children. “And told her a bit about Shawn. She was… well. A little startled that she had… well. Gone from being terrified of random aliens who might some day kill her to living with them in such quick succession. She didn’t seem to think that was normal.”

“No kidding, and if you get her talking about her mother you’ll realize--”

“What _is_ it about her mother?” Trunks interjected at Bra, glancing at the clock. Nearly eleven. “I’m getting brunch with her in, like, a second.”

“It’s not really something easy to describe,” Bra said, looking smug. “Just get her talking about it. May I suggest ordering her several mimosas?”

“I don’t want to see that therapist again,” Vegeta interjected. “I don’t really like drawing all that much.”

“What?” Trunks asked, blinking. “ _Drawing ?”_

“The therapist treated Dad like a child because he’s so shitty at talking about his emotions. She made him color and play with dolls and talk about his childhood and stuff. She will probably have him draw the threesome…” Bra muttered, shuttering.

“What?” Trunks repeated.

“What do you mean, ‘treated me like a child’?” Vegeta snapped. “And… wait, those weren’t _dolls,_ those were… tactical action figures!”

“Are you telling me that Mom never got drunk and wandered into your room, woke you up, and slurred into your ear that Dad loves you very much but just can’t verbalize it and that he’s so bad at verbalizing emotions Sara-the-therapist does basically child psychology on him? It was a foundational moment of my childhood.”

“What do you mean _child_ psychology?” Vegeta persisted.

“Well… yes, but she didn’t say the part about Sara,” Trunks admitted. That had always been weird, when his mother had done that. Shaken him awake and told him Vegeta really did love him. It was usually after those Capsule Corp. galas. She habitually got just a _bit_ too drunk at those…

“My… my _W_ _oman_ would creep into your rooms at night telling you both I love you?” Vegeta continued, frowning. “Woman! Explain yourself!”

Bulma had started typing something on her phone.

“Yeah, I’m emailing the therapist right now. This is getting silly,” Bulma muttered, sighing. “You know... it’s not good for children or teens to live in a too-sexual environment. It’s not good if parents… talk about sex too much, or whatever.”

“We _never_ talk about sex in front of the children,” Vegeta said, looking agitated.

“Right, but they _know…_ ”

“It’s not that weird,” Trunks said immediately. “It’s not… I think it would be weirder if you talked about that stuff with us. It’s more like… I don’t know. Kids everywhere must think they’re parents are having sex sometimes, right?”

“Well,” Bulma said, sighing again and looking over at Bra. “At least it seems you’ve calmed down.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I haven’t,” Bra said, airily. “I’m still outraged. I may never talk to you again. I just haven’t decided yet.”

Trunks heard the front door open. Shawn.

“Hi, guys,” Shawn said, slightly breathless, holding her kit and a small duffel bag. “Having… breakfast? Of… nothing?” She asked, nodding at the empty kitchen island in front of all of them.

Trunks blinked at her, his breath catching slightly, feeling slightly numb. She… well. She smelled like Ellis. And Lacy.

Bra burst out laughing.

“Oh, that’s fucking hilarious,” Bra said, wiping away tears from her eyes. “Oh my God, this fucking day…”

Trunks glanced over at his father, who looked at him and then shrugged slightly. Huh. Trunks’s father wasn’t really a shrugger.

“...What?” Shawn asked blankly, blushing slightly. She reached up to pat her hair. “Do I look really… crazy or something?”

“You fucked someone last night, that’s all,” Bra said, still laughing. “Look at Trunks’s face!”

Gritting his teeth, Trunks felt himself blush. Oh, Bra could be such a little… brat sometimes.

“What?” Shawn said, blinking, glancing from Bra to Trunks, starting to blush. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah right,” Bra said, rolling her eyes. “I can smell it all over you.”

“You-- what?” Shawn asked, now starting to look angry. “Why are you saying these things, Bra?!”

“She probably didn’t sleep with him,” Vegeta said, sighing.

Trunks glanced at his father again, who once again shrugged at him.

“What? It’s her trainer, right?” Vegeta muttered, now wandering over to the fridge and opening it and irritably ripping a string cheese off of the packet. Working to open the individual packet, he sighed deeply. “I think I met him once. Weird face. Designs on it. Anyway. Sometimes certain activities can mimic the sex smell.”

“Yeah, right,” Bra muttered. “You just want Trunks and Shawn to---”

“I’m _not_ lying,” Vegeta snapped, the string cheese flopping wildly by his side. “It doesn’t happen very often, because you Earthlings usually wear lots of clothing when training or -- whatever it is you call it. Exercising. Dancing, sometimes. But it can happen.”

“What are you talking about?” Shawn demanded, now blushing and looking even angrier. “Are you saying I _smell_ like Ellis? I showered _after_ we took those publicity shots…”

“Were you _naked_ in these publicity shots? Getting all sweaty?” Bra said, rolling her eyes.

“Well… not naked,” Shawn muttered, now smelling her arm. “But he doesn’t always wear a shirt when we perform, and Lacy and I wear… you know. Those little outfits. I guess I got a little sweaty. But I don’t understand. Do I smell?”

“It’s just a Saiyan thing,” Vegeta said. “ _My_ children, being of superior Saiyan genes have inherited it, whereas you, with your commoner genes, have not. We can smell it on other people when they’ve had sex with someone recently. Or gotten sweaty or something with them. Doesn’t happen much.”

“Why didn’t you tell us this?” Trunks said, frowning and blushing and feeling confused all at the same time. “Are you telling me I’ve been running around thinking people were sleeping together all this time when they might have just been… well, getting sweaty at a club?”

“It doesn’t happen that often!” Vegeta snapped. “I already said. You Earthlings like to wear clothes. Besides, to tell you the truth, I had forgotten about it. It wasn’t until I had started wondering about Mai that I remembered it...”

Vegeta trailed off and blinked at his son.

“You know…” Vegeta said feebly, trailing off.

There was a long pause.

“When she started cheating on you,” Bra finished. “Or, what, she started partially clothed gymnastics with someone else? Is that a _thing_ with you, Trunks?”

“Mai cheated on you?” Bulma said, frowning.

“No.” Trunks said shortly, feeling the earth underneath him tilt slightly. This was weird. “No.”

“So she _was_ doing gymnastics or naked dancing or--”

“We had threesomes, all right?” Trunks snapped. “We were _adults._ It never occurred to me that you would think she was _cheating_ on me…”

“Oh!” Bra yelled, standing up, her cheeks flushed. “You just _assume_ we automatically jump to, what, 'oh, Trunks and Mai were probably having _threesomes?!'_ What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with _all_ of you and your… your… _threesomes!_ ”

“Well -- yes, kind of!” Trunks shot back. “If I didn’t seem upset by it or anything, why would you jump to _cheating ?”_

“Because Mai wasn’t that into you and you would have done anything for her!” Bra yelled, still looking angry. “You would always follow her around with that look -- the same look _Shawn_ gives you, by the way. That’s why, what, she’s the perfect rebound for you? Ruti was too stupid, so get someone only marginally smarter and bam. Done.”

“Bra!” Bulma snapped, standing up. “Stop it right now. Why do you _get_ like this? So… so destructive!”

Trunks glanced at Shawn and she looked… horrified. No, no, no, Trunks thought wildly. Don’t stop looking at me with that little face, I love that face, I love it when I see it when you don’t think I’m looking… He tried to give her an encouraging little look, but she wouldn’t catch his eye.

“ _Destructive?_ Me? In _this_ family? Gee, _WHERE_ could I have gotten _THAT_ from?” Bra yelled sarcastically, throwing up her arms. “I didn’t realize in order to be straight in this goddamn family you had to be okay with… with… threesomes and weird spanking shit! That’s right!” Bra said, standing up and nodding at Trunks. “I _heard_ you the other night when I got a glass of water. You’re gross. You’re dirty. Both of you. _All_ of you are a bunch of perverts. _I’m_ the only one who’s not…”

“Well… what? What does being straight have to do with anything?” Bulma asked, confused. "And... spanking? What... what happened there?"

“Well, maybe I don’t like men!” Bra suddenly snapped.

“No surprise there, considering all these disgusting male perverts who I had the displeasure of having in my family! I hate every single one of you!” Bra continued, leaping up from her chair and running to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

“You know, I’m going to see if that therapist makes same-day appointments,” Bulma said, standing up and heading towards Bra’s room. “Still,” she said, sighing, “she finally told us. That’s something…”

 _“ Child_ psychology,” Vegeta said darkly, still eating his string cheese. “You,” he said, pointing the string cheese wildly at Shawn, “are _much_ smarter than Ruti, don’t let the Girl tell you otherwise. Plus your scent goes better with the Boy’s, so… yeah.”

“My… what?” Shawn asked, looking slightly shell-shocked.

“Dad! Leave!” Trunks snapped and was surprised when his father did so. Usually he didn’t like to be told what to do…

“Um,” Trunks said, looking at Shawn, who was staring at him apprehensively. “...Brunch?”  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my passions in life, other than DBZA and fanfiction, is the Bravo reality show Vanderpump Rules. I know. It's a little off-brand, but guys, it is so funny. (Actually, this season is kind of terrible, but last season was really good. I even listen to podcasts about this reality show.) Anyway, for those of you not in the know, last season involved a main character cheating on his girlfriend and her getting upset and her family comes over to visit her. 
> 
> And then when they are leaving, the girl hugs them and says goodbye... and you can see she is holding a damn string cheese, it's just flopping around in her hand. Clearly she wasn't ready for the goodbye scene. It was such a ridiculous, funny moment that felt really true to life. Sometimes you just have a string cheese in your hand at the wrong moment. And so I immediately thought of Vegeta angrily thrusting string cheese around. Also, I have this headcanon that he doesn't really cook (albeit that one scene in Super). So he largely eats leftovers, string cheese, those damn mac and cheese cups, protein shakes... a weird combo of a body-builder and a child. 
> 
> When I was 14, although I tried to be really "sex positive" and "woke" I got really skeeved out when I found out my parents or other adults were having sex. I thought it was really weird. I sort of interrupted my aunt and uncle on vacation once, and it was... weird. I didn't even see anything, but... it felt strange. It almost scared me, a bit. I'm not sure why -- maybe like "this relatively new thing I think about all the time is BEING DONE by these NORMAL adults?! But THEY don't look like porn stars?! They are just NORMAL PEOPLE?! And oh, god, will I have to have sex with people one day? I'd like to, but it's scary, too." That kind of feeling is what I'm trying to convey, a bit, with Bra. Maybe that's not a common feeling of younger teens, tho. Maybe I was just kind of prudish, or something. I think now I'd just make a stupid joke and move on with it.
> 
> Will we get a chapter of Vegeta and the therapist? Don't worry, we will.


	33. We thought she had a psychic break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trunks and Shawn go a diner, and a surprise visitor shows up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers! I am sorry I have been so remiss at writing lately. Work and life have been very insane. I think from this point on I should manage a post a week or more, though - but we probably won't return to the mad posting-almost-every-day schedule I was doing earlier in the year. 
> 
> Sorry this is a bit short - kind of a "palate cleanser" but I'll get to work on more interesting and maybe more sexy chapters soon! 
> 
> Thank you all for your comments! Woo! 
> 
> Family therapy scenes will happen! Huzzah! 
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta reader, dianaefox!

“So… what do I smell like, then?” Shawn asked, frowning across the greasy diner table at Trunks. 

“Um,” Trunks said, waiting as the waitress plopped down two heavy plates full of eggs and oil onto their table. He blinked as Shawn doused her eggs in ketchup. This wasn’t a very nice place, and Shawn had mentioned she had never been here before. Why on earth had she chosen it? 

“You smell a bit like newspaper and cardamom, I think. Sort of...astringent.”

“That doesn’t sound very good,” Shawn said, looking slightly alarmed. “Is it… terrible?”

“No, no,” Trunks said, laughing slightly and poking at one trembling egg on his plate. “No. It’s like… oh, maybe a bit like tonic water too. Kind of sharp smelling. It’s nice.”

So nice he would occasionally smell her drying towels in the bathroom right before he showered. Just burying his face in them, inhaling deeply… it got him very turned on. Convenient, right before showering...

“Hmm,” Shawn said, frowning at him. “What do you smell like?”

“Oh,” Trunks said, wishing she hadn’t asked him that. “A bit like roses and jasmine tea, I think. That’s what Bra told me, once, anyway. I don’t really notice it.” He didn’t really  _ like  _ the way he smelled. Well, that wasn’t really true. He did like it, he liked it a lot. But he didn’t like the  _ idea  _ of it. It was a bit girly. 

“Sounds better than mine,” Shawn said, laughing slightly and taking a sip of coffee. 

Trunks blinked at her, tapping his fingers on the tabletop. He felt unsettled. This whole morning had been extremely strange. Shawn had insisted they still go out, insisted they go to this weird greasy spoon downtown, but she wasn’t acting like she wanted to be here. Plus, there was the way she smelled… like she  _ had _ slept with Lacy and Ellis last night.

“Did you sleep with Ellis and Lacy last night?” he finally blurt out. “I mean… maybe you wouldn’t want to say, in front of everybody…”

“That’s an interesting question,” Shawn said, sighing. Trunks felt his stomach contract. “I mean, no,” she said, placing her chin in her hand and looking at him. “But I do sometimes literally sleep with them when I stay over. They only have the one bed. Small apartment.”

“Oh,” Trunks said, blinking. He wondered if that could do it, transmit the scents. Maybe. Probably. Hard to know… God, he  _ wished  _ his father had told him about this sooner… he hoped he hadn’t been lying. 

“I could… well, stop, if you’d like me too. I could sleep on the floor when I’m there, or bring a sleeping bag, or something.”

“Oh…” Trunks said, blinking. “Um. Well. I mean, I don’t want you to have to sleep on the  _ floor  _ because of me…”

“I actually thought maybe Ellis could join us,” Shawn said, nodding towards the across the street, “he has a hotel room over at the Grand Hotel over there…”

Trunks stared at her.

“What?” he asked, feeling confused and starting to get a bit irritated. So that was why she had chosen this little place -- because Ellis had a… wait, what? A room at the  _ Grand Hotel _ ? That was an expensive place… 

“What?” he asked again. “Weren’t you at his apartment last night?”

Shawn nodded, eating another egg swimming in ketchup.

“So,” she said, chewing thoughtfully. “Ellis is pretty involved in the... BDSM scene, I guess you’d call it. He has this rich… girlfriend, I guess, who rents a room there for them to go to, you know, ‘play’ in. It’s like a big suite, and she rents it for a week out of the month. They don’t spend the whole week together, but so just when they can get together during that week, they meet there. I think she’s famous, or something. Rich. And anyway, she ended things with him this morning because she’s getting married or something. But she’s letting him use the room tonight and tomorrow night.”

Trunks blinked at her.

“Oh,” he said, still a little confused. “So… she broke up with him this morning? Is he… upset?”

“I don’t know how upset he gets when his girlfriends leave him…” Shawn said thoughtfully. “Most of them seem pretty temporary. And today they were just kind of saying goodbye. I don’t think they had sex or anything…. But,” Shawn said, clearing her throat, “I told him a bit about how we were… well, fooling around, and doing some sort of light BDSM stuff, and he basically said we needed to have better communication. So, he thought, we could, you know, get brunch.”

“Ah,” Trunks said, nodding, uncomfortable and cold realization setting in. “So… this was his idea?”

“Yeah,” Shawn said. “He also wants to talk to you, for some reason.”

God, and I thought this was a date, Trunks thought glumly to himself, looking at Shawn. She was eating truly a disgusting amount of ketchup. Maybe it was better it wasn’t a date, he told himself moodily. 

“Sure, why not, invite him,” Trunks said, sighing. 

“OK,” Shawn said, flashing him a tentative smile and sending a text on her phone. 

Damn it, thought Trunks. What a day. 

\--

Ellis, with his face full of tattoos and facial piercings, was used to people looking at him strangely. He liked it, even. It made him feel… important and strange. 

He was used to it, then, when the hostess at the diner did a double-take when he wandered in. He was used to it when some of other diners gawked at him as he walked past.

What he wasn’t expecting was the irritated look Trunks was giving him when he slid into the booth next to Shawn. Hmm. That was a bad sign.

“Hi, guys,” Ellis said, telling the waitress who was pointedly trying  _ not  _ to notice his facial tattoos (a very recognizable look) that he just wanted a coffee. “How’re things?”

“Um, it’s been fine,” Shawn said, “Bit of a strange morning,” Shawn said, fiddling with her fork.

“Uh-huh,” Ellis said, glancing at Trunks, who looked down at his plate. Huh.

“So…” Ellis said, after a moment. “I thought I would offer myself to you two to, you know, encourage you guys to communicate better.” 

Ellis wasn’t sure if he should do it. But they needed to know... And he wasn’t sure how else to do it. He sighed. 

“First, can I have a word with Trunks? Alone?”

“Are you going to…” Shawn started, frowning at him.

“No, nothing about what we talked about,” Ellis said, shaking his head. He noticed Trunks tensed up a bit at that… huh. He didn’t think Trunks felt threatened of him, but maybe… Well, it probably didn’t matter. Soon he was about to potentially blow up any chance Trunks and Shawn had of getting together, anyway. Great. Lovely.

“Okay,” Shawn said, sliding out of the booth once he had stood up to let her out. “I’ll go… powder my nose, I guess…”

“What’s this about?” Trunks asked, frowning at him. “This has been a really difficult morning, and I’m kind of sick of all this… secrecy…”

“Secrecy?” Ellis asked, surprised. 

“You know, Shawn asks me to come here, and then suddenly she wants  _ you  _ to come…” Trunks said, running his hands through his hair.

“Oh,” Ellis said blankly. “She just… told you that when you got here, did she?”

“Yeah,” Trunks said, frowning. “You didn’t know?”

“I thought she had talked to you about it beforehand…” Ellis said, sighing. “She’s not always the best at… well. Communication.”

“Yeah,” Trunks agreed, nodding. 

Hmm. He wondered what that meant. Anyway, he would have to come out with it. 

“So, this is difficult to ask you,” Ellis said, haltingly. “And… don’t, like, freak out. Just… answer. Yes or no.”

“...OK,” Trunks said, looking apprehensive. 

“Last night Shawn told Lacy something that alarmed her,” Ellis said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. We’re… a little concerned about her.”

“OK,” Trunks said, looking more worried. 

“You’re not…” Ellis said, licking his lips. God, he was going to sound so  _ stupid. _ And then, there would go any chance of him and Shawn getting together. Still. If Shawn needed help, she needed help... “You’re not… half an alien, are you?”

“Oh,” Trunks said, blinking. “Yes. I am.”

Ellis stared at him. 

“Uh-huh,” he said, drumming his hands on the table. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Trunks said, nodding. “I can… prove it, kind of, when we’re somewhere private.”

“...You can… prove it,” Ellis said, still frowning. 

“Yeah…. I know that sounds… strange, but… I can kind of glow, sometimes... She didn’t tell you? About our family? About… her family?”

“No,” Ellis said, looking at him and exhaling deeply. “That’s true, too, is it? She’s probably… what, a quarter an alien? And… the burning? A… tail?”

Trunks nodded. 

“I guess I thought you knew,” Trunks said, shrugging. “Did you think she was nuts or something?”

“Oh my God, we thought she had a psychic break,” Ellis said, laughing slightly. “That’s why I pushed meeting you here so hard today.” He felt relieved. Still a little scared and confused, but relieved that Shawn was probably not making up bizarre alien origin stories.

“She really never told you guys before yesterday, huh?” Trunks asked him, cocking his head to one side. “Huh. I’m… surprised.”

“No, never,” Ellis said. “We thought her parents probably abused her…”

“Hmm,” Trunks said, frowning down at his eggs, looking lost in thought. 

“So, how you like playing with Shawn so far?” Ellis asked, hoping to break Trunks out of his uncomfortable-looking-thoughts.

“Oh, I like it,” Trunks said, laughing slightly and running his hand through his hair. “It’s fun.”

Hmm, Ellis thought, sighing internally. He didn’t look particularly comfortable. Holding back, probably. Well, that made sense. He had just been asked if he was an alien  _ and  _ Ellis was really Shawn’s friend, not Trunks’s. Probably weird to just start talking about sexual stuff. 

Shawn wandered back to the table and motioned for Ellis to budge over; he did so. 

“So,” Ellis said, picking up his coffee and taking a swig of it. 

“How was the breakup?” Shawn asked him, poking at her eggs. Hmm. She was trying to postpone the inevitable, probably. 

“Fine,” Ellis said, shrugging. “We knew it was coming. We just kind of ate breakfast today and cuddled. The room’s clean, if you guys want to go over there later. You know. Be away from your family, Trunks.”

“Oh…” Trunks said, blinking. “Um. Thanks.”

“So,” Ellis said, sighing and looking over at Shawn, “I also wanted to come here to sort of… well, see if there was anything I could help you guys with. With communicating. I know Shawn has some things she wants to say to you, Trunks…”

Shawn poked at her eggs.

“Oh yeah?” Trunks asked, running his hand through his hair again. “And what’s that?”

“I’m… sorry I sort of ran away after we fooled around last time,” Shawn said, glancing at Trunks and then glancing down. “It probably would have been better if we had… taken some time to cool off together.”

“Oh,” Trunks said, looking surprised. “You mean like… aftercare?”

Oho, thought Ellis, grinning slightly. He’s been doing some research, maybe.

“Yeah,” Shawn said, sighing. “I felt a little strange the next day. Did you?”

“Yeah… I was… well, kind of worried about you.”

“Oh,” Shawn said, blushing. “That’s… that’s okay. I was fine, really. Were… you okay? Otherwise?”

“Um,” Trunks said, glancing at Ellis again. 

“I can leave if you want,” Ellis said. “I thought I might have some… I don’t know. Ideas for the two of you. I can be… you know, part of a support network for you two. But I don’t have to be.”

Trunks looked a little confused, Ellis thought. 

“I wanted some… affirmation, I guess,” Trunks said eventually, his voice sounding slightly far away. “I wasn’t really sure you thought I did a good job.”

“Oh,” Shawn said, “you were, you know. Good.”

Ellis rolled his eyes internally. Come on, Shawn.

“Some submissive people -- some dominant people too, really -- have a little trouble verbalizing things,” Ellis said. “Not very talkative in the bedroom, that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, it sort of makes me feel… I don’t know,” Shawn began. “Shy.”

“But you can probably  _ try  _ a little, Shawn,” Ellis continued. “Not if it is really distressing to you, of course, but it’s also normal to push yourself for your partner. Trunks, from what I can gather, is already trying new things for you…”

“It’s all new for me, too,” Shawn grumbled, taking a swig of coffee. “I should have known you would be on his side… You two…  _ dominants… _ ”

“I’m almost never on the doms side when I talk to couples,” Ellis said, laughing slightly. “Not at first. It’s because I  _ know _ you, Shawn. I know your….well, your  _ issues _ better than Trunks’s.” 

“Hmm…” Shawn said, frowning at Trunks. “It’s a little strange for me because you are, you know.”

“I’m… what?” Trunks asked frowning. 

“You know, you’re,  _ so  _ attractive.” Shawn said, laughing a little. “So good at… sex. It feels a bit like… I don’t know. Why does it matter what  _ I  _ think? You already must know all this stuff…”

“Oh,” Trunks said, and Ellis noticed a deep blush creeping up his neck. “I mean… I  _ told  _ you I was insecure about some sex stuff… because of, you know. The Mai thing.”

“Oh, that,” Shawn said, shrugging. “But that seemed more about her than you, really. I mean… do you feel bad about your appearance,  _ ever _ ? Do you ever think you’re not good enough in the bedroom?”

“Yes,” Trunks said, looking a little irritated. “Frequently.”

“You don’t get to have a monopoly on self-esteem issues, Shawn,” Ellis said, trying to sound gentle.

“I  _ don’t  _ think I have a monopoly on self-esteem issues,” Shawn said through gritted teeth. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Ellis said, laughing slightly. “But, remember, just like you think it’s crazy that Trunks worries about his appearance, there are some people out there who think it’s crazy that you worry about yours, too…”

“It’s not really the same thing,” Shawn protested. “There are... well, there are parts of my appearance that are more  _ unusual _ than Trunks’s!”

“I think if I were you, I’d worry about the nose, too,” Trunks said, after a moment. “I’d probably get a nose job, honestly.”

Ellis wanted to smack him. Why was he saying that?

“But I’ve gotten used to looking at yours,” Trunks continued, smiling. “I like it. Even when… you know.”

Shawn blinked at him, blushing slightly.

“What?” 

“Well, I think it looks longer when your head is kind of angled down and you’re looking up at me. But you look so cute when you’re in that position, I like it even more.”

“Oh,” Shawn said, blinking. “Thanks for being… honest,” she said at last.

“I won’t lie to you,” Trunks said, looking at her with a face that made Ellis warm up to him immensely, “I promised.”

Ah. Ellis thought. She did like honesty, Shawn. And so, talking about how if it were him, he would get a nose job maybe is an asset… hmm. 

“I worry I look a little feminine,” Trunks continued. “The hair, and everything. And I like wearing nice clothes, and everything. People think I’m gay, sometimes. That sort of worries me…”

“Because you are too attractive? Too well-groomed?” Shawn said dryly.

“Yeah, but I really worry about it,” Trunks said, laughing. “That’s why… I like fooling around with you. I feel… masculine.”

Ellis watched Shawn’s nose wrinkle up as she thought about that. 

“I get that,” Shawn said after a moment. “I like feeling feminine when we’re… you know.”

“Yeah,” Trunks said, laughing slightly and taking a sip of his coffee. 

Lots of sexual energy here, Ellis thought, sighing slightly. They… like each other probably. Maybe Shawn wouldn’t ruin it with her crippling self-esteem issues. Probably not. But… well, maybe.

Ellis reached into his wallet and slid the keycard for the hotel room over towards Trunks. Masculine, right? He should have the keycard. 

“Have fun, kiddos. There’s like a jacuzzi tub in there. I’ve gotta go. Lacy’s at home…”

“Oh,” Trunks said, fingering the edge of the card. “Thanks…”


End file.
